


In The Night

by DiazTuna



Series: There is Nothing Simple [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season 7a, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Henry Mills is the only dude in this story, Slow Burn, Two Person Love Triangle, and WHEN I SAY ANGST AND SLOW BURN I MEAN IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2020-12-21 15:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiazTuna/pseuds/DiazTuna
Summary: There is an unmarked yellow envelope with no return address. With enough stamps to get to Berlin.It's suspicious, she knows. Nothing could get past the town line without magic. She should call for a meeting. Killian would wave it around, wonder who it is that plans to spoil their happiness. Snow would call Regina because that's how it works now. Regina would mutter an incantation and that would be the end of it. But Emma's fingers are itching to tear it open, to have it be her secret. And only hers. She relishes the sound of the envelope tearing and greedily shakes it until its contents fall out. It's a blank postcard.Greetings from Seattle!An alternate season seven (or the one where we write Emma back into the story). Part 1 of 2.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rexinasofia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexinasofia/gifts).

> I could never have done this without the Cranberries but mostly, MOSTLY because of Sweets. This story has been in the making too long. EDIT: AND I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS STORY GOT THE BEST COVERS BECAUSE OF YOU.
> 
> To clarify things a bit treat this like the first part of a season (7A). A second story that will come after this one will become 7b. 
> 
> I will update every Thursday night.

A book, a book that doesn't tell the full truth but enough. Just enough for this to work. A necklace, a necklace with the first letter of her names. She will know who they belong to. Ballet shoes. Two ballet shoes. Pink and greyed at the bottom. Sneakers worn instead of a slipper. Worn to work instead of a ball. Sugar, sugar less than a cup. More than a tablespoon. Ordinary ingredients that set off a spark. It will be done quickly before it's too late. Words said and sealed in a yellow envelope. Slipped into a mailbox and away it will go. It will know where it needs to go. Miles and miles of land between them.

This window will close soon, close without letting the breeze in. Her memory is braiding itself onto another, lost by the time she turns on her heel. 

* * *

Some days she wishes her key wouldn't fit in the lock. That it would be too big or too small. Just the wrong cut to tell her that she had made a mistake. That this isn't her house. Emma sighs guiltily as she feels how easily the front door opens for her. It's just after eight on a Wednesday night. A year ago she would have been wiping her mouth with a napkin and strapping her badge to her waist. Ready for the night patrol in Storybrooke. The Bug's shift stick would have been vibrating under the palm of her hand and Emma would have been praying for something more than a cat and less than a dragon to show up for the night. Tonight it's picking up the mail from the floor while Killian patrols the streets. 

The house keys clink like they always do when she drops them in the bowl. She won't take off her shoes just yet. It's part of a routine that's supposed to keep her grounded. Or at least that's what all the websites recommend. It's been two months since Henry took that bean and rode off to another world. Five months since she got married. A month and a half since she last spoke with Regina about something other than paperwork. Change is supposed to be hard, Emma reminds herself every other hour. But then she remembers how it felt to break curses and move the moon because of a change that burned in her chest. It was nothing like this dull silence. Maybe she isn't trying hard enough.

She takes her time sifting through the mail in the foyer, gets the smallest of pleasures to see her name printed in all the pieces. Emma Swan, Emma Swan, Emma Swan. Coupons from Tony's, the electric bill. A reminder to vote in local elections this November that she folds and pockets in her jacket because it has Regina's signature at the bottom. There is an unmarked yellow envelope with no return address. With enough stamps to get to Berlin. 

_ Sheriff Emma Swan _

_ 314 Bear Close _

_ Storybrooke, Maine _

It's suspicious, she knows. Nothing could get past the town line without magic. She should call for a meeting. Killian would wave it around, wonder who it is that plans to spoil their happiness. Snow would call Regina because that's how it works now. Regina would mutter an incantation and that would be the end of it. But Emma's fingers are itching to tear it open, to have it be her secret. And only hers. She relishes the sound of the envelope tearing and greedily shakes it until its contents fall out. It's a blank postcard.

_ Greetings from Seattle! _

Emma feels stupid examining the red and the blues of skyline. To think that this is what she was planning on guarding. She traces the lines where whoever sent this should have written a message. Stupid. Emma taps the card three times and suddenly she can't breathe anymore. Paralyzed by magic, it's like she was punched in the gut but can't double over. She can't move at all. The room has gone dark and she feels her chest on fire. All because she wanted something that was hers. Emma's eyes break into tears when she feels them. Henry. Regina. Others she doesn't recognize but feel hers. _ Hers and only hers _. Not here. Miles and miles of land between them. It doesn't make sense but she has to go. Emma has to go. Go, go, go. 

The foyer is back and she can breathe again. But the fire just keeps growing inside her chest. Emma races upstairs with the postcard still in her hand. Up to the bedroom that is neat and white and nothing like her. She finds her old duffel bag and stuffs it with whatever it is she has in her drawers. Toothbrush, tampons. Emma knows the drill, after all these years she still knows how to run. Water, pop tarts and anything that could last her weeks. All the cash she can find. Cell charger and nothing else. She hurries out the door. Doesn't bother with the keys but slips the ring off her finger because the fire in her chest demands it. 

Emma carefully stashes the postcard in the glove-box as soon as she unlocks the Bug. The engine starts without a hitch and the shift stick is vibrating under the palm of her hand. She shouldn't be smiling. She is.


	2. No Tights, No Flights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far my most self-indulging first chapter and story. 
> 
> Also. They're dorks.

Two dishes and two sets of forks and knives. A spoon and a bowl. A pot and two pans. It's all Regina has waiting for her in the kitchen. She fills her glass with cider and opens the tab. Dinner hadn't been quiet. A small mercy from her sister, she suspects. Zelena had raised her voice over stories, filled with details of a new life without magic. Exaggerated every annoyance, every detail. But Zelena couldn't be counted on to help clean up, her small mercies don't go that far. She had marched out the door noting that time had gotten away from them. It's close to midnight. Much later than she would have ever waited to get to the dishes. Later than she should be going to bed but these days she minds lying awake. When there isn't a light or a glow coming from Henry's room. When she deals with Hook and that ring on his finger more often than not. 

Regina scrubs at the oil until she loses her hands in the foam. It helps her breathe, the feel of soap and water between her fingers. Her cell phone rings somewhere behind her. 

“Who the hell...” She mutters as she rinses off her hands and pats them dry. Whoever it is isn’t giving up. Regina knows who it must be before she reads the name on the screen. 

“Snow?” 

“Oh thank God,” She is out of breath. “I thought you weren’t going to pick up for a second.” 

“Is something wrong?” There is a pause that is barely audible but Regina can hear it. It’s enough of an answer.

“Regina, is...Is Emma with you?” Snow asks this like she’s still in her classroom waiting for a confession from a student. 

_ “Of course she is! Where else would she be if not at that witch’s…” _Hook is loud enough that she can hear the assortment of curses he wouldn’t dare throw in her face. 

“No,” Regina says carefully, trying to piece together what must have happened. “Why would she be with me?” 

“Killian came home,” A door closes behind Snow. “And she wasn’t here. She’s not at the station. So we thought maybe…” 

“Have you tried calling her?” It’s a stupid question but it comes out anyway as she shuts her eyes. As tightly as she can. 

“It’s going straight to voicemail,” There is that shred of hope in Snow’s voice, the one that always makes her ignore the obvious. “Could you come over? Feel the house for magic? Some of her stuff is missing but that could just be…”

“Snow…” Regina breathes out. She wants to lay out the facts for her, walk her through them. But she doesn’t have it in her. Not anymore. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Please.” Years ago she would have delighted in Snow White begging. Not tonight. 

“Fine. Just get him out the house.” Regina instructs before hanging up. “Fuck.” She waits some ten minutes before stretching out her magic to reach for a house she has never set foot in. 

“Regina.” Snow practically runs to meet her. Worry is etched out all over her face, like she hasn’t decided what it is that should concern her. She squeezes Regina’s hand before leading her inside. “David took Killian down to the docks so we have a good half hour.” 

The foyer is cold, as if the door had been left open for hours. Keys are in a glass bowl and that is how Regina will always think of this. This empty, cold thing made from glass. The colors on the walls are muted and it smells of nothing. Nothing. Snow takes her all over the house. To the bedroom where drawers have been left half open. To the kitchen that sits unused. To every nook and cranny that should have been Emma’s but don’t feel anything like her. Regina stirs the air with her own magic, so that any hidden thing might reveal itself. But there isn’t anything to find. Nothing hidden, or lost. Emma wasn’t taken but they all knew that. Something violent twists inside her because this isn't what they wanted. This isn't what Snow had hoped for in the hidden corners of her heart. 

“I’m sorry.” Regina says not knowing why she is apologizing at all. She doesn’t dare join Snow on the sofa. This house has drained enough from her already, sitting means staying longer. 

“Why didn’t she...why didn’t she say anything?” Snow looks at Regina like she might have been privy to Emma’s secrets. Like she could explain why her daughter just left. Left them. All of them. 

“You know Emma,” She clears her throat for the lie that is coming. “Sometimes she just needs to clear her head. It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“But things are different now, aren't they?” The way Snow’s eyes are shining with tears and the outrage in her voice pushes her. Pushes venom onto her tongue and poison in her blood. Regina wants to ask why things are different now. Because of Hook and the way he circles her like a vulture. Because of the promise of a happy ending, wrapped in a white lace bow. Because of the room upstairs that seems to be in want of a crib now that Henry has left. 

“They are,” Regina says through her teeth, trying to steel herself. “She’ll be back soon.” 

“Yes, yes.” Snow takes her hand again. “You’re right. She’ll be back soon.” 

There’s the sound of a knob turning followed by Hook’s lamentations and David’s reassurances. She nods a goodbye to Snow before taking herself back to the mansion. 

Everything that happens next is a mechanical process. Regina moves towards the sink. Scrubs the sauce off the plates. The remnants of soup from her niece's bowl. Wipes her counters clean and dry. Regina flicks the light off and heads for the shower. Unbuttons her blouse and folds it before tossing it into the hamper. She waits for the water to get hot enough. To hit her skin hard, like boiling black pebbles. Just the way she likes it. Pressure on her neck and back. The water reaches her hair and Regina lets it. It doesn't matter if her hair gets wet so late at night. It doesn't matter because Emma is gone and she can't remember the last thing she said to her. 

Her oatmeal and lavender soap sits untouched. She just stands under the water, trying to figure out if had been Tuesday or Monday last week when Emma had shown up at her office with a folder. Regina doesn't know if it had been the morning or the afternoon. If she had even said hello. If she had called her Sheriff or Emma. _ Puta. _Regina tries so hard that her teeth bite into her lip. Because Emma is gone and there is so much she has already forgotten. Maybe she would've said something if Regina had bothered to ask. If she had been able to look at her in the eye. Been able to stand seeing her for more than a couple of minutes. She shuts off the water not feeling any cleaner. Picks the first set of pajamas she finds. Doesn't bother drying her hair before sinking into her mattress. 

“Mierda. Mierda. Mierda!” She chokes out and throws her pillows to the other side of the room. Regina could throw her lamp, her jewellery box. Break her mirror. There is no one to hear her lose her temper. Not her curses, not the furniture breaking. But she stays in bed, feeling her sheets dampen with her wet hair. Staring at the dark. Because this isn't her loss to mourn. 

Her phone rings. Regina doesn't think before she answers it. 

“Yes?” 

“So turns out you weren't totally off with the pineapple in a burger deal.” It's light and easy. Regina hasn't heard her voice like this in a long while. “It doesn't suck.” 

“Emma.” She breathes out as she sits up. Regina thinks about asking just where the hell she is, what has gotten into her. But Emma spooks easy, she shouldn’t press her luck. 

“Who else would call you at this ungodly hour?” 

“Your mother, for one.” Regina laughs because she wants to keep her on the phone. Needs to keep her talking. 

“Yeah, well. Snow doesn't seem like the type to wash down a burger with a banana shake at a drive in.” Emma makes it sound like she just went for a drive and let time get away from her. 

“And live to tell the tale.” Regina smiles into the phone. There is no one to see it. 

“Neither will I. That sauce is coming back to haunt me.” 

“That's because you always punch above your weight.” It's so easy to pretend when she sounds like this. Pretend that it's a Friday night before the underworld, that Emma had found her bottle of habanero in the pantry and poured it all over her ropa vieja. 

“You're never gonna let that go, huh?” 

“I see no reason to.” Regina laughs again, harder this time. She's missed her. She's missed her so much it hurts. “Where are you?” Regina whispers, wants so badly to go where she is. But she has no right, not it was Emma’s choice to leave. 

The illusion breaks just like that, with one question. Emma sighs into phone and she can hear the shifting in her seat. 

“In a parking lot near Rochester.”

“Are you…” She doesn't know what she wants to ask. Doesn't know if she's ready for the answer. “Are you OK?” 

“Yeah, I..” Emma pauses and Regina can just see her biting her lips before she answers. “I think it's the first time I've felt OK in a while.” 

Regina stays silent, lingers on her words. Feels that twist of guilt because she hadn't known. No, she had known. Known but chosen to accept that veneer of happiness Emma had put between them.

“This is something you had to do.” She says because she can't ask anything of Emma. No demands, no explanations. 

“Something like that, yeah.” It isn't the whole truth, Regina has learned what that sounds like from her. Her voice is her own and she doesn't waver on her words. But they're short and refuse to commit to anything. “I'll call you again soon. That alright with you?”

“Yes, that's alright.” Her breath gets away from her. 

“Night, Regina.” 

“Good night, Emma.” 

The line goes dead as Regina lies down and closes her eyes.

* * *

Three hundred and seventy five dollars. And a quarter, Roni never forgets the quarter. It's what she'll have at the end of the month if she keeps the bar. Her old man always said she had always said she was pilas. If he could only see her now, practically doing magic with the budget to stay afloat. Everyone's been down since Belfry came to the neighborhood, if she has her way they'll be no one left to call it home. If Roni signs those papers on Monday then it'll be her fault too. Have the old place turned into a gastropub or something worse. She wishes she were stronger than this. 

“Still got some Salva Vidas behind the bar?” Beto slurs his way through the question. 

“I told you I stopped bringing them,” Roni replies lining up her glasses. “Too much of a hassle for beer that tastes like ass.” 

He mumbles something before he resigns himself to counting peanuts on his napkin. 

Ni las moscas se paran she can hear her father’s raspy voice say in between laughs. It’s what he always said whenever Yanina brought over cauliflower in red sauce and the whole bar smelled like it. Roni bets he never thought that’d be his bar, the place where not even flies will buzz around. It’s getting harder to remember the good days. Sometimes it feels like she’s made them up or that they’re days that belong to someone else. Wishful thinking, wishful bullshit. 

“Selección’s playing tonight,” Beto says more to himself than to her. “In Dallas.” 

“I don’t have ESPN.” She reminds him swapping his drink for water. 

“Pura mierda anyway. Barely touch the ball those chickenshits.” He cares about very little beyond the game and the son and daughter that have become strangers to him. 

Roni thinks it’s that time of the night when she pretends her bottles need reorganizing. It gives her something to do for a good fifteen minutes. Tonight they're going to be ordered by color, vodka and the cheap tequila to one side and scotch and the good stuff to the other. The door opens letting in the sound of the streets pour in. Threatening storm and a car that doesn’t avoid that batch after the stoplight. It makes the steps approaching the bar harder to read. Boots but not a man, unsure but not shy. 

“Hi,” She sounds out of breath from behind the bar. A stranger. “Could I..” 

Roni turns around, tossing a rag over her shoulder. The woman is not what she had expected, not with that frozen look in her face. Green eyes fixed on her like she’s seen a ghost. Blonde hair that seems to be freshly washed with motel three-in-one and a red leather jacket that’s half-way zipped. 

“Water?” Roni offers because the stranger has only gone paler. 

She nods but doesn’t make a move to approach the bar.

“I don’t bite, you know.” She pours the water like she would to a frightened animal. 

“This _ is _ Roni’s, right?” The stranger sounds like she didn’t hear her last few words. Like she’s trying to wake up from a dream. Or a nightmare. 

“And I’m Roni.” She replies with suspicion settling in her gut. The stranger has made a decision, Roni can see it in the woman’s expression as she settles on a bar stool. “Kind of need your name. Now that you have mine.” 

“Right, yeah.” The woman swallows and breathes in. “Clark.” The way she looks at Roni is unsettling, like she sees something she can't. Like she wants Roni to correct her on the spot, tell her she’s caught her in a lie. 

“You from Kansas?” Is all Roni knows to ask.

“What? Oh. Because of the name. No. I’m not from Kansas.” Her eyes look a little glassy in the yellow light of the bar. “Got anything stronger?” 

The way her lips turn slightly upwards and the look she throws her way makes her feel like some kind of way. Like there isn’t enough air in the world. Her mind must be playing tricks on her, it always does when a woman is involved. 

Roni clears her throat as she blinks, thinking that might help. “Any preferences?” 

“Anything but rum.” Clark laughs like they're both in on the joke. 

Whiskey is what she settles on. Anyone who goes by the name Clark should like whiskey. Roni watches her down it barely letting the burn show in her face. Clark asks for another and it's only by the end of that drink that her shoulders seem to drop. 

“Did Carlos send you?” Roni asks pouring herself a drink after refilling Clark’s. It’s a test, the answer will decide what kind of person she is. Or claims to be

“Yeah, uh,” If Clark’s eyes had been glassy before now they’re shining. “He said you had the key to the place.” 

The way her voice comes close to breaking makes Roni knock back her drink. She doesn’t know this woman, doesn’t understand why she scratches at her knuckles. Why every word seems to be a painful effort. But she’ll be staying across the hall from hers. In that rickedy and half-empty apartment Carlos put up on Airbnb to make up for all the tenants he’s lost. 

“How long you staying for?” 

“I don’t know,” Clark taps her glass three times. “Just until I sort out some things.” 

“Business in town?” Roni notices a band of lighter skin on her finger. Almost imperceptible but she tends bar. There isn’t much that escapes her notice on slow nights. Especially if it’s a missing wedding ring on a woman. On a stranger. 

“Something like that. I’m a…” She hesitates, like she’s caught in a memory. “I’m a bail bondsperson.” 

“You chase people when they’re down on their luck?” Roni kisses her teeth and produces her best glare. 

Clark seems lost but a spark comes through. Just enough. “No, I just find people who’ve skipped on bail…” 

“Same difference.” There is only so much women like her can be trusted Roni knows. They don’t see with the same eyes. Clark tilts her head like she’s waiting for her to continue. “What? You only hunt down people who deserve it?” 

“I try to, yeah.” There is a slight smile to her lips and it’s getting under Roni’s skin. Clark looking at her like she _ knows _ her. Like they’ve done this before. 

“And who are you to decide that?” She is going to kill Carlos if he rented the place out to a narc. “You’re the last thing this neighborhood needs.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s got anything to worry about when you’re around.” Clark says completely unfazed by her words, fond. It makes Roni’s mouth go dry. 

“Ugh, please.” She hides her guilt about Monday and the papers she could be signing. 

“You’ll be keeping an eye on me?” Roni can’t escape it, the sharp edge of her gaze. Not when something inside her begs to be cut. 

“Two if I can spare them, Kansas.” It makes Clark shake her head and choke out a laugh.

Roni wants to distrust her, wants to hold on to her suspicion. But there’s something disarming about a stranger with brittle eyes. She grabs the key to the apartment from her junk drawer and slides it over to her. She should know better. 

The door opens again, this time the sound of rain pours in. Sabine rushes inside, drenched to the bone. 

“Have you seen Lucy?” She braces herself against the bar. 

“No. Did she skip out from Belfry’s again?” Roni knows she needs to be worried when Sabine is out of breath. 

“Didn’t show for her ballet class. Usually when she escapes she winds up at our place but…” 

Clark looks ready to jump in, do something if asked. Roni wants to find a reason, some ulterior motive on her. But there is little beyond concern when Roni spares a glance at her. 

“How long has it been?” Roni asks handing her a clean face towel to dry herself up. 

“I don’t know. Ivy only called Jay like an hour ago.” Sabine pats her face and breathes out. 

“Of course she did.” Belfry, the name alone is poison. Roni shudders to think of where Lucy could be right now. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Spread the word around. Anything.”

“Can I…-” Clark begins with an uncertain voice. It isn't her place, Roni wants to remind her of that with the look she fixes her. 

Sabine’s phone buzzes and she fishes it out of her back pocket. “Jay? Hey...You found her? Whoa, whoa...slow down...I can meet you there.” 

“Is she OK?” Roni asks as soon as Sabine hangs up. 

“Yeah, she’s fine. Lucy out-Lucied herself tonight.” Sabine sighs and hands her back her towel. “We’ll fill you in later. If Tilly doesn’t beat us to it.” With that she leaves much like she came in. 

“If you ever need…” Roni furrows her brow because she’s still an outsider. No matter how brittle her eyes, she can't afford to fall for that. It kills any shred of confidence in Clark’s voice. “I...I’ll see you around, Roni.” 

She leaves a few bills on the bar and pockets the key as she walks away. 

Roni is left staring at the door, wishing she could make sense of the knot in her throat. 

* * *

Her neck is stiff, one inch in any direction and Regina won’t be able to move for some twenty minutes. Friday night. Everything that needs fixing she saves for Fridays They used to mean marmahon. Spiced tea and three chapters of a book read. They used to mean Emma getting an incantation right before the timer for the oven went off and Henry racing through the den to set the table. Now they mean balancing budgets, going over every motion and request no matter how ridiculous. Anything that will keep her out of the mansion. She hates the echo. It’s too much like the curse and who she used to be. Regina considers the tupperware with the dinner she has no appetite for sitting inside her mini fridge. Maybe she’ll pick through and eat a mouthful or two of chickpeas and keep working until her neck truly gives out. The door to her office swings open just when she has made up her mind. 

“Well, isn’t this a surprising sight on a Friday evening.” Zelena says dryly with Robyn giggling in her arms. 

“You can’t just barge into my office, Zelena,” she replies nonplussed, applying pressure to the base of her skull.

“Please.” Her sister rolls her eyes like she has any right to be exasperated. “Robyn and I haven’t had our dinner yet.” 

“Auntie Regina!” Her niece stretches her arms towards her. Zelena approaches her desk and passes off Robyn to her without a second thought. 

“And what do you expect me to do about it?’ Regina says, fixing the collar of her niece’s shirt. 

“To leave this ridiculously decorated lair you call an office_._” Zelena gestures to her office and directly to her horse sculpture. “It’s starting to look pathetic.” 

Regina feels the scowl forming even as she bounces Robyn on her knee. “I have work to do. I know that may seem like a foreign concept to you, but…-”

“Analyzing a stupid request for banning wish fountains from those buttoned-up faeries isn’t work.” She picks up the blue stationary before tossing it over her shoulder. “Now, get your things and let’s go.” 

She counts to five before conceding. It’s so rarely that Zelena acts like an older sister, and maybe because it’s Friday and her ache is spreading to her shoulders that she doesn’t mind it. Welcomes her brusqueness. Embraces it after days when it seems like she and everything around her seems so fragile. 

“I’m not cooking you dinner if that’s what this is about,” Regina says flatly as they head out. 

“Seems rather ungrateful considering we just salvaged your night but fine,” Zelena stops short of touching her arm. Never knowing where the line is. “I suppose you could buy me consolation onion rings.” 

Dinner is a spread of paper bags at Zelena’s farmhouse. Robin expertly sliding out of her chair and running to fetch a series of toys for Regina to see. Her chest is fuller after it, sitting on Zelena’s couch nursing a cup of tea her sister had gone through so many pains to brew. 

“I am absolutely knackered,” her sister says, stretching her feet over the coffee table. 

Regina turns her head to look at Zelena in disbelief. 

“Spare me your judgement. Robyn has discovered mud and the outdoors,” she says like some sort of curse has been brought on their family. “And she has these damn bursts of magic. It’s hard to keep up.” 

“The terrible twos. Henry filled his pockets with just about anything. I took off my heels more times than I can count to chase after him.” Regina’s laugh is strangled but she doesn’t let it get to the point of pain. 

“Have you heard from him?” 

“Not since that letter he managed to send a few weeks ago.” She sucks in a breath because it had been his writing. His clear penmanship and his earnest voice but something had struck her. Almost cut her in half again, like she was stuck in the past and he was so far ahead of her. Out of her reach. 

“Have you heard from…” 

Regina shakes her head before Zelena dares to finish that sentence. “She’s called Snow. I hear she’s fine.” Regina lies because that call in the late of Wednesday night had felt like a secret. Only theirs. Emma hadn’t made her promise anything but Regina guards it all the same. 

“Do they at least know where she ran off to? Why is pretty much self..-” 

“I’m not talking about this, Zelena.” She grimaces because she’s spent days wondering just what came after that Rochester parking lot. Imagining map lines and traffic alerts that would tell her where Emma is. 

“Fuck tea, then.” Zelena sets down her cup of tea and stands up. “It’s time to break out the gin.” 

It makes her laugh deep from her belly. It occurs to Regina that her sister does love her, more than she lets on. One drink and they’re laughing about never having done this before. Two and there’s a joke about princesses and their bird-braided hair. Three and it’s the pretty women of Oz and the Enchanted Forest. Fiona with the grey eyes and Marisa with the curls. Four and it’s a silence so heavy that it reeks of alcohol and liquorice. Five and it’s Zelena mumbling her good nights and pressing a kiss to her temple as Regina is nodding off.

Something vibrates on top of her an hour or three later. Her phone. Even in her haze she had to keep it close. It won't stop its buzzing and she picks up, forgetting what she’d been hoping before her eyes closed. 

“What?” Regina grunts, trying to blink herself sober. 

“Did I wake you?” Emma asks in a quiet voice. 

‘Yes. No.” She stumbles to get to her feet and has enough presence of mind to know that fresh air would be good. “Wait. Hold on.”

“OK.” There is a half-laugh from Emma.

Regina trips over the blanket Zelena had thrown over her, and she mutters a curse as she wraps it around herself. She tries to be quiet as she heads outside and settles on the front steps. Head resting on a wooden pillar and blanket around her shoulders. 

“Where are you?” Emma asks like she might still be at the station willing to pick her up. Like she hadn’t left at all. 

“Drunk,” she mumbles. “Zelena’s.” 

“Try and stay hydrated, Madam Mayor. Hangovers on Saturday are a bitch.” 

“Are you trying to take care of me now, Sheriff?” Regina can hear the slur on her words but she doesn’t care to stop it. 

“If you'd let me.” There is a weight to Emma’s voice. A new one that she can’t bear. Regina can see her, back resting against a naked wall. Somewhere that must be far away from here. Away from her. 

“I don't know if that's ever stopped you. If I've ever... been able to stop you. From doing anything.” The words are out before Regina can think better of them. 

Regina had gone over how this conversation would go hundreds of times. She knew what she would say, what she wouldn't. The words so carefully picked out, as if she had ever managed that before. They would pretend longer this time. Regina wouldn’t ask questions, and Emma… she hadn’t gotten that far. It doesn’t matter now. Nothing ever goes according to plan when it comes to the two of them. 

“Why did you call me?” 

“I said I would, didn’t I?” It’s pained. Like Regina had gone and broken something without meaning to. “I like hearing your voice.” 

Just for one gin-induced second Regina imagines that she's resting her head on her shoulder. That it's Emma's hair she feels on her cheeks and not chipped paint from the pillar. Just one second. 

“I like hearing my voice too.” It's not what she meant but Regina can't remember the right words. Words other than _ I miss you _. 

Emma snorts and Regina instinctively rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that's always been pretty obvious.” 

“Shut up. You're particularly obnoxious when I'm drunk.” 

Emma laughs but it drags at the end. Regina wonders if she's in bed, if there's a pillow she's holding onto. She wants to know. Needs to know what face she's wearing.

“Can I ask you something?” She can feel the shift on Emma's voice like she can the wind. Sudden and quick.

Regina hums her reply with a racing heart.

“Say you forgot me…”

“Forget you? I don't think I could even if I wanted.” Careless with her words. Words maybe she'd only said in dreams. 

“But if you did,” Emma's voice breaks. It makes Regina bite into her lip to keep her composure. “If you wanted to..”

“Emma, what is this about?” She breathes out the question. 

“Just go with it.” Emma seldom begs but when she does there is little Regina can do. “Please.”

“Am I cursed in this scenario?” Regina caves.

“I don't know. Maybe.” It sounds too real, as if magic could cross the town line. For better or worse. “Would you trust me? Even if you didn't know me?”

Regina wonders if Emma’s eyes are shining. They must be, like they did when they first met. When she first followed her up the path to her front door. When she told her about her birthday wish.

“Yes. I'm sure you'd get under my skin in no time.” She replies lowly, fearing her voice will give her away. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

A hiccup that tastes like gin and onion betrays her. “You know what I mean.” 

“You really are drunk, huh.” Some of the heaviness is gone from Emma's voice. But Regina can feel it, even like this. This far away.

“I don't know why that comes as a surprise. I told you I was.” She whispers because she wants and wants in ways she would never say aloud. Because she pictures Emma running her fingers through her hair. Murmuring the words. Promising she will never let her forget tonight.

“You did.” Emma sighs and Regina knows this call is coming to an end soon. “It's late. I should probably let you back to sleeping off the booze.”

“I'll be fine. I'll just get freshly squeezed orange juice in the morning.” 

“Like Lois Lane?” It sounds as if she's had a revelation.

“Yes, Miss Swan. Like Lois Lane.” Regina answers and feels the smile on her lips. They're both remembering the same thing, she knows. The Superman marathon Henry had talked them into, claiming it was strictly his writer's curiosity. 

“You'll call me again soon?” Her heart clenches in ways she didn't know it still could.

“Tomorrow. I'll call you again tomorrow.” Emma promises, no doubt in her voice.

“I'll still remember you in the morning.” She tells her because her words can't be helped. Because Regina needs to promise her something too. 

“That's good to hear.” 

Regina has to believe there is a smile at the other end.


	3. Dos Riguas

Maseca, rice, oil. Some canned vegetables. Sofrito. Eggs and red beans. Instant soups. Roni has her grocery list memorized. It's the same every week. Except for the packets of soup, that depends on what Maria's is carrying this week. It's asparagus, potato and costilla today. She grabs an apple because she cannot afford a doctor's appointment. It reminds her of something too. It's in the back of her mind, Roni can never put her finger on it. Always takes that first bite like maybe it'll have any sort of answers. 

“Right, it's your usual $27.75.” Josie tells her just as Roni is laying out her exact change. “How do you do it?” 

Josie's new and she wears that perfume that smells like bubblegum. She has been asking Roni that same question every week since Maria hired her. Es dulce la nena, Maria had said giving her shoulder a squeeze. Roni is meant to go easy on her. 

“Magic.” She smiles straight at the security camera. Evidence of her good behavior. “Thanks, Josie.” Roni takes her usual paper bags and walks out. 

It's Saturday. It's getting dark and the streets are freshly rained on. It's what everyone expects from this neighborhood. Puddles and dying streetlights. It's been this way since Roni can remember. One of her bags feels like it might rip. Roni doesn't have to look to know that all the cans are piled together.

“Dammit, Josie. Every week.” She mutters as she stops to rearrange her groceries over a mailbox. 

“...are you sure you're in the right place?” Tilly's voice comes from near a bench.

Roni immediately looks up whenever Tilly is involved. She is sitting cross legged on a bench, her jacket doesn't show signs that she had braved out in the rain. Her dark hair is split into two braids today. The yellow of her nails is chipped but still plays off with the dark brown of her skin.Tilly always gets her colors right, whatever that might mean day to day. 

“I'm sure.” It's Clark's voice that answers. Roni doesn't care for what type of business she has talking to Tilly. “This is the place.” 

Clark is still in that red leather jacket and jeans. Sitting cross legged with Tilly on that bench. There's crumpled tin foil and a soda can between them.

“Sounds to me like you're looking for someone who doesn't know they're missing.” Tilly tells her with a mouthful of sandwich. 

A shadow goes over Clark's expression, like Tilly just exposed a wound. Roni watches her swallow and then breathe in. Whatever she isn't saying is a struggle.

“Could be,” It's what she can make out this far away. Clark clears her throat and straightens her back. “You'll call me if you see anything odd, right?” 

“Odd?” Tilly says tilting her head. Roni keeps herself from scoffing because this is Hyperion Heights and nothing could ever be strange to Tilly. 

“You know, like outta place.” 

“You mean besides you.” 

“Yeah, besides me.” Clark smiles weakly because she must have seen what should have been obvious from the start. “I promise I'm not a cop.” 

“I trust you,” Tilly says wiping her mouth. Roni only watches her smile grow and hopes she's right. “I heard your stomach complain and you gave me your sandwich anyway. Didn't have to, you know? I carry my own. But it was the polite thing to do.” 

“Yeah. Guess it was.” She's clearly relieved and it's going to eat Roni up inside if she doesn't figure out what her angle is. 

“See you next time I see something out of place.” Tilly hands her a sandwich bag as she gets up. “Hi Roni!” She smiles at her and Roni feels her neck growing warm at being made. 

“Hey Tilly,” she says, picking up her grocery bags. “Was she treating you alright?” Roni asks loud enough for Clark to hear.

“Yeah. She's just lost someone, I think.” Tilly asks with genuine concern. “Do you think we could help?” 

“We’ll see,” Roni says, catching that haunted look in Clark's eyes. Like she's still trying to wake up. “You got somewhere to be tonight?” 

“Jamilah said she'll forget her keys on the door again. Which reminds me, got an errand to run. Bye!” With that Tilly runs off towards the docks. 

“She's uh, she's a good kid,” Clark says, like she's apologizing for something. 

“She is.” Roni plans to leave without another word but Clark practically jumps to her feet.. 

It should be infuriating the way she just takes one of her bags, the one that was threatening to break. So naturally, without asking. Like it's muscle memory.

“You better not be trouble.” Roni goes straight to the point. “If I find out you're any sort of sni…”

“You'll run me out of the neighborhood, I know.” Her lips crook into a smile. “Have you always lived here?” 

“Is this going to turn into an interrogation?” 

“_ Jesus _.” Clark sighs but only like she's pretending to be exasperated.“I’m just making conversation.”

Roni takes a good look at her. Sees the mud on her boots and the water that is still drying off her hair. Looks at the way she seems to be cradling her bag of groceries. Maybe, just maybe, she owes her something. 

“Yeah. I've lived here pretty much my whole life.” Roni takes a deep breath because it's been a while since she's been a stranger. “My old man moved us here after he got me in the divorce.” 

“Just you and your dad then?” Clark asks carefully. Like she's sifting through pebbles looking for something precious. 

“Just me. For about seventeen years now.” 

“I'm sorry.” There is a strangeness to the words, she means them. Like she'd been hoping and wishing for something different. 

The way she looks at Roni, it's as if she owns a secret of hers that she's forgotten. It makes her uncomfortable in ways she never feels. Makes her want slip out of her skin and find one that suits her better. 

“Who are you looking for anyway?” she says, trying to casual. 

Clark falls back, not enough that anyone would notice. Roni wouldn’t have, not if she hadn’t been looking for it. Expecting a reaction, anything that would get her to look away. 

“Can’t say.” Her voice is strained and Roni wonders about her. What it is that she’s hiding. “Guess I’ll know when I find them.” 

“Is that cryptic shit supposed to make me believe you’re not up to something?” She looks at Clark when she says this and sees both her eyebrows go up. 

She breaks out into deep and loud laugh that sounds so known to her. Like apples in the back of her mind. Like it’s always been there. 

“No, I suppose not.” Clark is still laughing. And just like that Roni knows her resolve to distrust her chipping away. 

A red pick-up honks at them as it drives by. It's Miguel Barrios and like clockwork he's hurling the most tasteless curses at her.

“La puta que te pario, Miguel!” She shouts back as his car turns the corner.

“Who was _ that? _” Clark's brow is furrowed, she's always so ready to act, do something. Anything. More and more of her resolve crumbles. 

“Just the local dick. Mostly harmless.” If she really thinks about it, Roni can't even remember why it is that she and Miguel hate each other. If it's his sister he found her kissing or his bike she stole so many years ago. “Can’t say the same about the Belfrys.” 

She only tilts her head in confusion and that means that there is less to worry about Clark. Gringa or not. 

“The people turning this place into an “up and coming neighborhood.” Roni repeats the words she'd seen on fliers and brochures with the Belfry logo on them. “Nobody even knows where they came from.” 

Clark furrows her brow, like she's trying to put a puzzle together. “People always come from somewhere,” she says more to herself than to Roni.

“Yeah. Money.” Roni knows it comes out bitter. But she thinks of Belfry's tailored dresses. Champagne broken on the brick of a new building. She thinks red numbers and eviction notices on more doors than she can count. 

Clark nods and absentmindedly reaches for her keys as they near their building. It's only then that Roni remembers that they're across the hall from each other. They're quiet on their way up, their boots heavy on the stairs that need fixing. She steals a glance or two at Clark, trying to make sense of her. Not knowing what she's running to. They reach Roni's door just as a drumming in her chest picks up its pace. 

“You'll be OK carrying them in?” It's just short of asking to come in. The green of her eyes is softer than they have any right being. 

“I think I can handle it.” Roni takes the bag from her before the drumming gets any worse. 

“Maybe I'll swing by the bar later?” 

“And drink more of my expensive whiskey.”

“Is this your way of saying that I'm not an asshole?” 

Roni rolls her eyes as she pushes the door open with her knee. “I haven't decided yet.” 

She steps inside and closes the door before she can see the way Clark must be looking at her. She doesn't want to know. Roni sets her bags down until she hears the door across the hall open and close behind hers. 

“Hey. You busy?” Comes Clark's muffled voice. She shouldn't be eavesdropping but it wraps around her. The way her voice folds so gently over the words. 

She remembers the missing wedding ring on her finger and it's clear this isn't who she left behind. Roni moves from the door while she still can. Before she learns more than she can handle.

* * *

“No, I'm not busy.” Regina hears her voice grow softer and closes her robe. As if Emma had caught her moving around the kitchen undressed. 

“How's the hangover?” Emma asks like she's hard at work at keeping her tone so light. 

“Over. Though I can't say the same for the cold I feel coming on.” Her throat is starting to ache and she's fiddled with the thermostat at least three times today. 

“Oh?” 

“I've got it covered.” She lets the heat from the stove warm her hands as she puts Emma on speaker. “So long as Snow doesn't come marching in with soup.” 

“Are you implying I'd snitch on you?” Her voice echoes. It's an illusion, if Regina keeps her back turned she can pretend Emma is still here. 

“That kind of thing may be hereditary.” 

“Wow.” It's quiet there too, wherever on the map Emma is. “Went right for the jugular.” 

Regina takes her kettle and watches the water changes color as she pours it into a sauce pan. She reaches for a mug and whatever she can eat that will warm her up.

“Are you really making dinner right now?” Emma must have heard the closing cabinets and drawers.

“Just tea.” Regina can't remember if this is how Emma gets when she's sick. If she perched herself on her kitchen stools, if she ran her out of her own office. “My father swore by it. Never had a cold he couldn't stop dead in its tracks.” 

“Ginger, allspice, and orange peel for the water. And lemon and honey after it's been steeped.” 

“How did you…?”

“I made it in New York once or twice. It did kick that cold in the ass.” She says quietly, like she always does when she talks about their shared memories. “Tell me about him.”

“About who?” 

This request throws her off. Emma always does. 

“About your dad.”

Regina leans against the counter and allows the request to simmer. She searches through her memories and picks the first one that makes her smile. 

“He loved to read.” The smell of yellowed books and parchment comes to mind. “He had this rocking chair. It was bad for his back but he used to spend hours on it just reading.” 

“Kid had to take after someone.” It's a barely something other than a mumble but it awakens the ache she feels. In that place in her heart she holds for them. For her father, for her son. For Emma. All gone in different ways. 

“Mother loathed it, I remember that.” Regina can see it, the brown fading from it. The armrests carved to look like guacamayas and the jaguar on the headrest. “But then again she hated anything that reminded her of the old land.” 

The air has turned warm and fragrant around her. Just the scent of the ginger makes her breathe easier. It's right that she should talk about her father when the night is like this. She tells Emma about the notes he kept when she strains her tea. After her first sip she tells her how quiet he got on Saturdays and never knowing why. Emma has to ask very little to keep her going, there is so much she has kept to herself for so long. Wishes of him waking her in the night and having a ship ready to sail them away. Back to his father's palace. How he thought that peeling fruit was a test of someone's character.

“I knew you only handed me that plantain because you knew I'd mess up.” Emma says with such vindication in her voice, years in the making.

“I did no such thing.” Regina teases her, wondering what magic is letting them pretend tonight. She's moved to the couch in the den and set her phone next to her. “I was trying a new recipe that night and needed all the help I could get.” 

“Sure, I believe that.” She sounds so much like Henry sometimes, especially when she's trying to be playful like this. “What is it called again?” 

“Mofongo.” She lets herself sink into her blanket, bracing herself for a confession. “I really was trying it for the first time.” 

“Well, you had me fooled.” 

“I was just… I don't know.” It's not something she's ever vocalised, not even to herself.

“What?” A gentle nudge, Regina knows what Emma Swan look would accompany it. It makes her hold her breath to keep all her questions in. Buried like they should have been last night. 

“It wasn't something of my father's. Just something that could have been.” She focuses on the maps and names she’d memorized when the curse brought her here. “I don't know who we might have been here. Where daddy would have been born. So I…”

“Take from where you can?” It's unbearable that Emma's voice sounds so crisp when she isn't here. Regina wishes for so much, so much she can never have. 

“Yes.” Regina admits in a deep breath. “It doesn't feel real, sometimes. I'm just waiting for the day when someone calls me a fraud.” 

“I don't think you could ever be a fraud.” Emma says with such conviction. “You're plenty real.” 

“I bet you never thought you'd be saying that to the Evil Queen.” She says because she has to say something that cuts through all this. Through all this want and distance. 

Emma laughs so deeply that for a moment the whole room doesn’t sound so empty. 

* * *

The night is better than it has been in weeks. Payday Saturday. People can afford to sit at a bar instead of carrying out half a six pack from Maria’s. Roni even has to refill the peanut bowl and cut off a couple of people, a good night for the register. If nights like this came more often then she could tell Victoria Belfry to go fuck herself. With authority this time. 

The door opens and she looks up like she has been doing since she opened tonight. Roni is quick to get back to slicing her lime when she catches sight of Clark. Tells herself that she hadn't been hoping she'd keep her word. It's a while until Roni gets to her but when she does the air is different around her. Whoever was at the other end of that call lifted something off her. But that shadow is still on her face. She doesn't want to know why. Doesn't need to know. 

“Those bills burning a hole in your pocket?” Roni doesn't ask before pouring her a drink. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” Clark searches her face and gives her a half smile. 

“Don’t forget to tip.” She replies too quickly to her liking.

Over the next hour Roni finds herself gravitating to Clark. Ridicula she mutters to herself because she isn't topping off her drink. There is a shared look when Sady blurts out that he'd leave his wife for Roni. Wiping the bar more than she has all week and she _ hates _ it. She's following some sort of invisible path. She doesn't mean to, Roni never means these things. Whatever brains she has don't work when she needs them to. Mija when it comes to pretty eyes there isn't much you can do she hears her old man laughing. Roni knows he'd push her if were still here, push her to smile. But it's been seventeen years of Roni hearing his voice, thinking he'd know what to do. Thinking he'd know how to pick up the pieces after it all went to shit. 

“Watch my spot.” Clark tells her as she leaves to get some air.

Roni wonders how long it'll be this time. How long until it all goes to shit over pretty eyes.

The sounds of Saturday night leak out the curb when the door is pushed open again.. It's a new face looking lost and like he'll walk right back out. But he stays and makes his way to the bar. It's the stool next to Clark's he picks. He's young, looks like he hasn't slept. His dark hair is neatly cut and it makes him look out of place. Not like Belfry's buyers, just...Roni can't pin him. It's been two nights of strangers who don't fit into her boxes. She doesn't like it. 

“What are you drinking?” Roni asks him. 

“The strongest you got.” He isn't the sort of guy to ask this too often. It's easy to tell. 

“Rough night?” She puts plenty of ice in the sweetest bourbon she's got. 

“Rough couple of nights.” He sighs and rubs his neck. “How would you feel if a kid showed up at your doorstep claiming that _ you _ are their mother?” 

“You're Lucy’s misadventure of the day.” Roni thought that she'd be thinking of her bat if she met the guy but she never thought he'd look so harmless. There's something almost familiar about him. 

He holds up two fingers as he drinks. “Two days. She won't give up. Just dropped her off again.” 

“That's Lucy for you.” 

“So everyone tells me.” He sighs and shifts in his seat. “It's just. Crazy. You know?” 

“You don't think there's a chance that you…” Roni asks not knowing why. Why she wants an answer from him.

“No. I'm not like that,” He pauses and feels the burn of the watered down bourbon. “It's just not possible.” 

It's the truth, she can tell. He looks like he'd been hiding under a rock until Lucy prodded him and brought him back here. He slumps his shoulders and Roni fights the urge take his hand. Squeeze it. Anything to comfort him. It's a stupid, ridiculous thought. 

“Hey.” Clark had quietly returned to her stool before she knew it. 

“Hey” He returns with a weak smile. One that Roni has seen on Clark. 

Roni pours him another watered down drink and can't help her questions. “I'm sorry but how did Lucy even find you? Was it one of those websites that steal your information?” 

He shakes his head and laughs. Clark just watches them. “No, it's actually pretty funny. I, uh, wrote a book. A bad one.” 

“OK.” She narrows her eyes in confusion. “What is it about?” 

“Modern fairy tales.” He air quotes and Roni cringes. “Yeah, I know. Did I say it was bad?” 

Clark is quiet but has turned to look at the new face. Holding her glass just over the edge of the bar. She's interested and Roni is knows it. There is so much that doesn't fit about her. 

“I can see why a kid would pick it up though.”

“A kid _ did _ and somehow it got her believing I’m her father.”

“Oh.” Roni pours herself some bourbon and knocks it back. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs and she could swear she has seen him do that before.

“Have I seen you in a dust cover somewhere?” Clark ventures in like she's studying him. Like maybe he's the one she's looking for.

“I don't think so. Pretty sure they're overstocked at every bookstore.” 

“What's your name? Maybe I recognize it.” 

“Doubt it.” He smiles sheepishly. “Henry Mills.” 

Glass breaks followed and a stool is knocked over. Clark is holding herself up against the bar. A mess of glass and liquor at her feet. Her face has gone white and her eyes wide. Roni doesn't think she's breathing.

“Henry...Henry Mills?” She chokes out.

He moves to help her but she shakes her head.

“Hey... hey, Clark?” Roni takes her wrist from behind the bar. She pulls away like she's been burned. Looks at her like she's back in her nightmare. 

“I have to...I gotta go.” 

Clark's first few steps are stumbles but by the time she gets to the door she's running.

* * *

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Something is pulling her out nothingness she’d been submerged in. Her phone on the nightstand. Regina squints at the brightness of the screen. 2:30 A.M._ Emma Swan. _

“Emma?” Her voice is hoarse with sleep.

There is only laboured breathing at the other end. 

“Emma. What's wrong?” Regina sits up with a hand to her chest. “Let me help.” 

“I…” She begins. It sounds so broken, like she's never heard her before. Crying, Emma is crying.

“I’ll come to you, just say…”

“No.” Emma gasps out and the word feels sharp in her chest. “I…”

Regina lets her take her time to gather her thoughts. It's the least she can do.

“Remember when...when Henry was five?” Maybe it breaks her too when Emma tries so hard. “And.. and.. he wanted..to be an archeologist?” 

“I do,” It's comfort she wants. From a memory she'd gifted her. “He took to digging every time we went to the park. Convinced he'd find ruins.” 

“Wh..what was the language he made up?” 

“Tequero.” Regina closes her eyes and sees her son. Drawing random shapes on yellow and orange construction paper. “It was really just speaking with a T.” 

“He was so excited when you got it right.” Emma's words are still shaky but she can feel her breathing easier.

“Not as excited as when he found the vase I planted in the backyard.”

“Yeah. I remember.” 

Regina keeps talking about every detail they share.His first haircut. Hot chocolate and cinnamon. Second place in the science fair because Snow didn't want to look biased. Scraped knees. Everything until they can't speak anymore and they've drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Roni stretches out on her bed and considers that it's Sunday. Could be the last Sunday she has when she can still walk into Yantzy's without getting the stink eye from half the neighborhood. Because it isn't her last Sunday in this place, no matter what happens tomorrow. It's late, past lunch. Sleeping in on Sundays is the only luxury she can afford. She powers through the lukewarm water of her shower and slips into her oldest jeans and her Mariners hoodie. Roni is halfway down the stairs when she spots Clark coming her way. After last night she’ll wait, she needs answers. Henry had helped her clean up, not saying a word. Just as perplexed as she’d been. Her footsteps are close enough that Roni can see her clearly.

She looks like hell. Red eyes and dark circles under her eyes. Payula.

“You going out for lunch?” Roni asks before she can question it. 

Clark avoids her eyes and tries to walk past her. “I’m not hungry.”

“I am.” She blocks her way. “And I’m going down to get some food.” 

Wordlessly she takes another step away from Roni, determined to avoid her. 

“Clark, I’m not really asking here.” Her voice is as stern as she can make it. 

Finally, she nods with the ghost of a smile. “You’re the boss.”

Roni will wait until she can’t run away to ask her questions. Clark spooks easy, she’s learned that much. It’s just them on the streets right now and the quiet of Sunday. It’s familiar in that way she can’t shake, like Henry’s furrowed brow and careful hands. Roni leads them just to the corner before the troll underpass. Half a cell repair shop, half a restaurant. Yantzy’s. It’s after the lunch rush, Margarita Thompson and her kids are the only ones left at this point. It means that plenty of metal chairs are left instead of the slippery plastic Coca Cola ones. 

“Sit.” Roni points at a table in the corner as she walks up to the counter. 

Yantzy is already looking at her in disbelief when she reaches the register. 

“What?” 

“Yo no he dicho nada.” She shrugs her shoulders and then laughs. “Two riguas then?” 

“Yeah,” Roni rolls her eyes and breathes out. Yantzy loves to give her shit over never bringing a woman home to her. “And an extra of refried beans.” 

“Coca?” Yantzy’s arm is already in the fridge before she an answer. She’ll kick anyone want who dares reject her suggestions. 

“Me lo pones en la cuenta?” She already owes her close fifty bucks but Roni isn’t carrying enough cash for two. 

“Tuesday, you pay.” Yantzy smirks and Roni already knows what’s coming. “Quien te ve. Chela y todo.” 

“Dios santo.” She takes the two bottles and is relieved to find Clark sitting at the table.

“What was that about?” Clark asks quietly, still set on avoiding her eyes. 

“Just ordering.” 

Roni hands her a soda and sits across from her.

“Uh, thanks for this. I’ll pay you back” Clark pinches her eyes shut for a second. “For the drink too. And the broken glass.” 

She thinks of asking just what the hell was that last night and demand that she tells her what exactly she is doing in Hyperion Heights. But there’s shame on Clark’s face and that shadow that seems to be thinning her out. Roni doesn’t have the stomach for it. 

“It’s fine.” She twists the cap off her bottle and lies back in her chair.

“It’s not.” Clark is peeling off the old sticker on the napkin holder. “It’s.. I knew a Henry Mills. Hearing that name...I wasn’t expecting it. I’m... sorry.” 

Roni is trusting her words now, she’s gone beyond the point of suspicion. She’s fucked, is what she is. 

“Is that who Tilly thinks you lost?” The question is what finally gets her to look up. Her silence is impossible to decipher. 

“OK.” Roni presses her lips together, not knowing what will Clark to tell her anything besides half answers.

“Mama, ya ‘sta!” Yantzy calls from the counter and she’s glad for the distraction. 

“One of these days you’re actually gonna pay me to wait tables.” Roni balances three plates, knowing Yantzy’s is following with the cheese and mantequilla. 

The back of her neck grows warm when she realizes that Yantzy is squeezing Clark’s shoulder as she sets the food on the table.

“This one is a good one.” She tells her gesturing towards Roni. 

“I know.” Clark at least tries to smile up at her, no hint of mockery. It’s all Yantzy needs to leave their table with the smuggest look on her face. 

“Ignore her.” Roni says unwrapping her fork and knife from the paper napkin.

“She likes you.” Her tone makes her head spin. It's genuinely glad, but Clark continues to be a little more than a stranger.

“She likes strays.” It's dismissive, Roni knows. “Eat before she changes her mind.” 

Mantequilla over the charred sweet corn flatbread, enough cheese and spoonful of beans to top it off. Roni bites her lips when she sees Clark cutting into her riguas plain, not willing to admit she's white and so lost. 

“Yantzy will never forgive me if she sees you.” She tells her spooning hefty amounts of each thing on her plate. “Don’t need you passing out on me, Kansas.” Roni clears her throat and retreats with that drumming in her chest kicking up speed.

Clark dips a chunk into the mantequilla first and puts it in her mouth without too much thought. “OhmyGod. This is mazing.” 

“And to think you weren't hungry.” At the rate she's eating she’ll have cleaned out her plate in five minutes. 

Roni waits until she's taking a gulp of her soda to press her on last night. 

“You know, that Henry Mills turned out to be good guy.” She really means it but it's beside the point. 

Her eyes go wide and her hands on her lap.”You didn't think he would be?” 

“Usually when I hear a story about a kid finding a long-lost father it turns out he's just a dead-beat who was better off lost.” 

Clark only breathes in as answer and Roni realizes that she needs to give her something to get anything out of her. 

“Leave it to Lucy Vidrio to try and find a way around that. Can't blame her, with the Belfrys as her guardians.” 

“_ They _ have her?” Clark makes it sound like Lucy means something to her.

“Victoria Belfry is your average evil stepmother.” Roni has hardly seen the woman outside the times she’s been escorted out of her office. “Jacinda's, anyway.” 

“This is Lucy's mother?” 

“Should I be writing this down for you?” Roni prods her, aware of what she's doing. 

“I'm just…”

“Looking for someone, I know.” Tilly's voice suddenly sparks an idea. Here with her half eaten riguas and across from a woman she met two days ago. Fate or not. “Perhaps we can help each other out.” 

“How?” Clark leans forward almost touching her hands. 

“You said you only go after people who deserve it, right?” Roni straightens her shoulders and fixes her gaze on her.

“Yeah, I did.” The green in Clark's eyes turns hopeful before she throws a half smile her way.

“How about you help me get something on Belfry and I'll help look for whoever it is you can't find.” 

“Deal.” She didn't have to think about it. That certainty should make her nervous but Roni that incessant drumming in her chest reassures her. This is going to work. 

It has to be the answer to keeping the neighborhood in their hands. Roni needs it to be for her old man's bar and Tilly on the streets. For Jacinda struggling to keep a job and Sabine working her fingers to the bone in some else's s kitchen. For Lucy slipping out of her ballet shoes as escaping from class. For Yantzy and everyone she feeds. 

“Let's hope you're good at your job, Kansas.” Roni keeps her eyes on her, on the way she's lighting up. “Got a lot riding on it.” 

Come Monday, Roni will tear those papers in half. Tell Victoria Belfry to go fuck herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think!


	4. Sidra y Minas

It's early in the morning. Just ten minutes after seven on a Monday. Ten minutes after seven used to mean reminders for and from Henry as he wolfed down his eggs and beans. _ Don't forget that you're Mrs. Tillman's guest speaker...on magical theory, I remember sweetheart. Good. Do you think ma can make it? _Regina finds that leaving the house early helps to keep the echo out of her mind. Breakfast at Granny's is just loud enough to silence it out. 

“Your usual, Mayor Mills?” It isn't Ruby greeting her but Cesar. One of the Lost Boys Granny had grown to like despite herself. 

“Yes, thank you Cesar.” Regina is settling at the bar when she spots Snow's pixie haircut at a booth. 

“Awfully early for a meeting, don't you think?” She says sliding into the booth. It's not nearly as light as she intended, somehow it never is. 

“Regina. Hi.” Snow tries to smile through her words. “You know how it is, early bird.” 

Her cup is half empty with coffee and there are nothing but crumbs left on her plate. Regina notices that her complexion isn't that milky white whole stories were written about. It's almost ashen. She wonders if this how she looks too, grey when she should glow.

“How…” Regina begins. 

“Here you are. Coffee and an egg white omelette with green peppers and tomatoes.” Cesar waits for appreciative nod to leave. 

“That looks good. You should dig in before it gets cold.” Snow says and the concern on her face confirms her suspicions.

Obediently Regina fork splits a piece of her omelette, not willing to be on the receiving end of questions today. 

“Neal has taken to building forts in class. With anything he can find.” Snow tells her, her eyes seem to be trying to blink away her thoughts. “Martha says it's his creativity coming out to play.” 

Regina nods and takes another bite. Something is brewing inside her, it’s sympathetic and angry at once. She knows about voids, about empty spaces. How it feels to be without. She has always chosen to wear them, bear them so that she never forgets. Regina has never been as willing as Snow is to fill them. 

“Ruthie is taking after David…”

“Snow.” Regina squeezes her hand. It's a warning wrapped in concern. 

“It'll be a week tomorrow.” She lowers her eyes to her half empty cup. 

“I know.” Regina replies feeling guilt creep into her words. There isn't anything to say that can make it better. 

“Killian, he…” Snow’s voice falters. “He’s talking about leaving.” 

“To find her?” She panics because Emma hasn't given her a clue as to where she might be. But he might know, might have pushed her until she caved. Tasking himself with bringing her back once again.

“No.” It sounds like defeat. “Emma...I didn't tell you this when I asked you to the house.” 

“What? You didn't tell me what?” Regina's grip tightens on her fork.

“Emma left her ring behind.” Snow with a golden band of promise on her finger doesn't understand but Regina breathes in relief. _ It's the first time I've felt OK in a while _. 

She sips her coffee and tries to think of the words. Any that might not be a lie. 

“When you last spoke to her what did she say?” 

Snow lies back and closes her eyes for a second. “That she's fine. She has a place to stay. That we shouldn't worry.” 

Regina scoffs because it's all they've done and at that Snow lightens up. “She's met some interesting people I think she said.” 

“Oh?” It's the best she can do to hide her surprise. Regina can't resent her this, not when she's fallen asleep with Emma on the other end and kept it a secret. Even if she is left wondering about everything Emma keeps from her. 

“I hope she knows where home is.” Snow squeezes her hand this time and it's her turn to try on a smile.

“Me too.” 

Come night Regina waits for a call that doesn't come. 

* * *

It's Wednesday, nearing sunset. People's shoulders are lighter. It's the first time in a long time that the neighborhood feels like this. It's all Roni's doing and every time someone stops by the bar to thank her for mandar a comer mierda a Belfry her guts become tight knots. She hasn't done anything beyond refusing to sell. But hope spreads quickly,like wildfire. It's why she’s kneeling on a patch of dirt at the garden Jacinda had decided to save from Belfry’s clutches. It’s been days since Clark had sat across from her and promised to help. _ Days _. Roni thinks sticking her hands into the dirt to make room for flowers. Days where she's wondered if Clark's gone and left and screwed her over. Days of this shit weighing down on her. 

“You okay?” Henry asks crouching down next to her. There's dirt on his forehead from where he'd tried to wipe his sweat off. 

“Of course I am.” The word _ sweetheart _ stays between her teeth. It makes Roni smile to ease that crease between his eyes almost on instinct. 

“Just checking.” He says committed to his cool exterior. “I only asked because you've been working on this patch for a while now.” 

Roni scoffs as she clears some rocks away. He rolls his eyes and pulls at the weeds closest to him. Like he has any clue as to what he's doing. 

“I thought you lived on the other side of town.” 

“I do,” Henry clears his throat. “Had a passenger come to the neighborhood. Thought I'd stay and help out.” 

“Of course you did.” She teases him and glances at Jacinda with no subtlety. Jacinda in old jeans and smiling the day away. 

“I, uh,” He sighs and hangs his head. “Jacinda thinks Lucy will just keep running away so it might help if I stick around to…”

“Let her down easy?” Roni's softens like it rarely does. 

“She's a sweet kid. I don't want to break her heart.” His lips go for that thin smile she recognizes. “And I get it.”

“Get what?” 

“Wanting your life to be different so badly that you end tricking yourself that it is.” Henry’s voice is steady even if his eyes aren’t. “I even wrote a whole book about it.” 

She nods suddenly light-headed at his words. Roni wishes she could put a name to it, to this feeling from the back of her mind. 

“I guess we just gotta do whatever we can to change it.” It sounds like she picked it up from a cheap self-help book but it’s the best she can do. 

“Little by little, huh?” He says showing her the roots he’s pulled as evidence of that.

“I think that’s actually grass you ripped out.” 

“Shit.” He laughs shaking his head until something over Roni’s shoulder gives him pause. “Your mysterious brooding stranger is back.” 

“What are you on about, Mills? I don’t have a…” Roni loses her words as she turns to find Clark at the corner where the garden begins. Hair tied in a loose ponytail and dressed in a button up under her jacket. 

Henry waves awkwardly at her and she hesitantly returns the gesture. Probably hadn’t been expecting to be spotted. Clark sticks her hands into her pockets and Roni just knows she’s about to disappear on her.

“Like hell you are.” Roni mutters getting to her feet and feels Henry’s eyes on her. Knows what this must look like to him but that doesn’t matter right now because they _ have a deal. _

“Hey, Kansas!” She calls out to her to make sure she stays.

Clark seems lost for a moment, as lost as she’d been on Friday night. But she straightens her shoulders and waits.

“Hi, Roni.” Her eyes shift to the people in the garden. “Place is cleaning up nicely.” 

“Came to lend a hand?” Roni can’t help the harshness in her voice. “Where the hell have you been? I thought you’d skipped town.” 

At that Clark’s gaze snaps back to her. 

“I wouldn’t,” She looks like she’s searching for the right explanation to give her and Roni crosses her arms over chest. “I was looking into some leads on Belfry and they didn’t pan out.” 

“I thought you were actually _ good _ at stalking people for a living.” Roni snipes but that somehow seems to relieve some of the tension surrounding Clark. 

“That’s a really bad way to put it but I am,” She scratches the back of her neck. “Things tend to get a little harder when your mark has professional goons watching her back.” 

Roni furrows her brow as she realizes that Clark had left her out, it makes that familiar unknown thing twist inside her.

“You’d have better luck if you weren’t going at this alone.” 

“It was boring-hitting-the-pavement kind of deal.” Clark’s lips don’t dare to smile just yet. “I didn’t think you’d want to come along.” 

“What gave you that impression?” Roni resists the urge to step closer, breathe the words so she can feel them. “ You keep me in the know. No matter what, alright?” 

“Alright.” A spark behind Clark’s gaze is gone before she can call it anything but fleeting. 

“OK,” Roni sighs and rubs her hands together. “What do you got so far?” 

“Not too much. Just trying to find something that sticks out but Belfry's good at covering her tracks.” 

“I could have told you that.” She mutters because she isn't big enough to let it go yet. “Any leads on your thing?” 

Clark shakes her head. “I'm working on angle. But I need time.” 

“How much?” Roni looks uneasily at the movement in the garden. Takes in the laughter and the sound of bottles being uncapped. Of music being brought out like they've already won the war. 

“I'll have something tomorrow. I promise.” Clark tells her earnestly and Roni doesn't miss how she stops herself from reaching for her hand. 

“Don't think I won't knock on your door.” 

“I'm counting on it.” 

* * *

_ Las locuras se heredan. That's what her mother always said. Her aunt stitched strange creatures onto her quilts. Her aunt with her hair so pale that it looked green in the light. Her own hair is curtain of black that shines no other color under the Sun. But when she sinks her hands into the clay she shapes those same creatures. Three eyed and winged ones. Creatures with no mouth and too many legs. Ugly to anyone outside this house, anyone who doesn’t understand that this means family. _

Regina keeps her finger on this page, unable to move past it. It's on old book, one of the first that had appeared on her shelves during her curse. Knowledge of this world began to seep in until she was caught in its pages. But Henry came into her life and she left it to gather dust. Then Emma happened to her and she forgot all about it. Regina has the time to go through its pages again. Find the notes she had made on the margins, words she wanted to learn. Sentences so musical that they had to be spells, all trying to make sense of this world. Regina traces her the ink of her own writing, it’s not nostalgia she feels. She never wanted to find herself here again. Unable to sleep and curled up in the sofa in her study with a glass of cider. 

Regina reaches for her phone and goes for the call history. _ Marco at 11:45 A.M. Mrs. Daniels at 3:20 P.M. yesterday. Zelena at 12: 01 PM., Zelena at 6:15 A.M. Zelena at 4:00 A.M . Snow at 5:11 P.M. on Monday. Emma Swan at 2: 30 A.M. on Sunday. _Her thumb hovers over her name, considers pressing call because she’s gotten used to the sound of her again. Of them speaking low in the night. Those murmurs echo in the space that is Emma’s. Regina thinks better of it, Emma can’t be pushed. Not if she left her ring behind, not if there are new people in her life she won’t mention to her. Regina lets the phone slide off her fingers and tries to focus on the next paragraph. 

_ All houses are haunted, she has known that she was a child. Especially houses like hers built for a life so much larger than they could hold. Houses like hers have a ghost in every corner… _

Her heart jumps to her throat when her phone buzzes. Regina holds her breath, wishing her hope away. It’s pointless to try when she reads the name on the screen. 

“Hi.” It's all Regina can afford to say, could never say te llame con el pensamiento. 

“I feel like I always catch you at the worst time.” Emma says and maybe she’s smiling. 

“Maybe I should start scheduling you in.” She pulls her knees to her chest as if she were still a girl. 

“That only ever worked because you lured me with pastries.” 

“Isn’t that reassuring coming from Storybrooke’s…” Regina stops herself because holding onto the title of Sheriff is getting harder. “You’re not catching me at a bad time.” She amends hoping Emma doesn’t notice it. 

“You're home?” Her voice is tinted with concern

“In my study,” Regina doesn't know if that is the right answer. “Just going through an old book.” 

She half expects Emma to remark on the time, say it's late or that she'll leave Regina to her reading.

“What is it about?” 

“Family and magic. With some politics thrown in.” 

“Because there is so little of that in town.” It's becoming a habit of hers to try and listen for Emma's smile. Picture that moment when it could almost turn into a laugh. 

“It's not like _ that _.” Regina replies suddenly defensive of her old book. She stretches out on the sofa and runs her thumb on the yellowed pages. 

“What is like, then?” Emma almost sounds like she's teasing her, light and effortless. It's anything but. 

“It's…” Words aren't coming to her like they should. “ It's not magic like in the Enchanted Forest or here for that matter. I don't know if I can explain it.” 

Emma hums patiently and Regina doesn't know what she has done to deserve it. To deserve Emma calling her and hanging onto her words. She doesn't want to ask. 

“It's magic that isn't magic.” Regina tells her, finally understanding all her writings in the margins. “It's how life works, in a way. No spells or potions. Just simple sentences strung together.” She can’t say how she had been frightened when she first finished a chapter. Afraid that magic had followed her to this new world that was supposed to be hers. 

“I get it. I think.” Emma's voice has gone strangled. “Magic in the little things?” 

Regina closes her eyes and braces for what she will say next. “It’s how when you know a stream is singing or the wind is dancing. It awakens whatever magic you have in you.” 

“Doesn’t sound like it’s the type that breaks curses though.” 

“Why not?” She asks not knowing what has come over her. “There is no reason as to why it couldn’t.” 

“Do you...do you really believe that?” Emma sounds like she's run out of air. The kind that makes her try harder to smile. 

“I do. There must be something that sets off the spark. No matter the realm.” If she could only take one look at her but Regina can’t ask that of her. “For you it’s very likely the smell of fries.”

“Ha ha.” The tone isn't quite right. But nothing is. “What’s yours, then? Horses?”

“I would have thought you knew me better than that.” Regina takes a sip of her cider and waits. 

“Apples.” Emma says half-laughing. “Right. Of course.” 

“I used to tell time with my apple tree,” It’s meant to sound like inconsequential detail but they seem to exist in this space at night where the veil over them is too thin. “Blossoms in the Spring, the last apple by the end of October. It’s how I knew any time had passed at all, even the air was different.” 

“In Storybrooke?” 

It’s Regina’s turn to choke out a laugh, careful not to let any old bitterness spill. “I first picked up the habit in the King’s castle.” 

Emma is quiet and if it goes on any longer an apology will follow. 

“I liked being reminded of where I came from.” Regina lets her voice go softer for her. “I still do.” 

“To think I took a chainsaw to that tree.” Emma says quietly, perhaps lost in thought.

“_ Idiot. _” She says not minding the affection spilling over it.

* * *

It’s already tomorrow. Roni slips into her jacket and has made up her mind. It might be only ten but she will go knocking on Clark’s door. It’s already tomorrow, after all. Roni pats her pockets one last time before heading out the door. She finds Clark in the hall, facing her with a stunned look on her face. 

“I was just coming to…” Clark puts her hands behind her back. “I have a lead.” 

Her blonde hair is loose on her shoulders and there is a hint of color her cheeks. Roni wonders where is it that Clark goes that she returns with a different expression each time. She shouldn’t be thinking about her at all, not like this. Not when Clark has eyes that search for whatever she has hidden away inside herself.

“About time.” Roni clears her throat and moves to let her in. 

“We need to go out for this.” Clark replies, looking like she’s trapped her breath in her chest. It’s apprehension Roni realizes when she steps away from her door. 

“It better be worth it I’ll be blowing off my rum delivery.” 

It earns Roni a look from Clark, one she pretends did nothing. One that shouldn’t feel like the beginning of something. 

“Let’s hope so.” This time she smiles before leading the way.

The way down the stairs and up three blocks to a yellow VW. Roni blinks at the sight of it, at the way the light hits it. Almost like she’s sure she knows it. She puts her hand on the handle and pushes the thought away. A bad case of dejá vú, it’s all it is. 

“Are you getting in?” Clark asks already inside and stretching to unlock her door. 

Roni nods and slides into her seat, feeling the cold leather on the back of her jeans. 

“Nice car you got here, Kansas.”

With one hand in the ignition she gapes at Roni.

“What?” 

“That wasn’t sarcasm.” Clark says in apparent shock.

“Was it supposed to be?” 

“No. No.” Her foot goes in the clutch as she starts the car, biting her lip to keep from smiling. “It _ is _ a nice car. I’m just glad to hear you say it.” 

“God, you’re strange.” Roni says shaking her head. “Where are we going?” 

At that Clark shrugs her shoulders, like the truth might get her to back out. Roni wants to say that they don’t have time for this, she doesn’t have time for this. But she buckles in and says nothing because she needs to see this until the end. Whatever it is. They go past the old troll under the bridge. A sick feeling always overcomes her whenever she does. Roni feels Clark’s expectant gaze on her as they drive, still searching. Almost wanting. It makes the air too thick and heavy on her. She rolls down the window, con ojos así who wouldn’t. It's better to focus on the grey blur of the city, one that Roni half recognizes. Everything blends together until green seeps, the streets become narrower and her head is pounding. She has never been this far away from Hyperion Heights before. The car stops at a two-way street sheltered by a canopy of trees. 

“What is this place?” The voice that asks this is too small. Roni doesn’t think it’s hers 

“It’s an orchard,” Clark unbuckles her seat and opens her door. “Apples, you know?”

Roni sets one foot on the curb feeling like she might hurl. One deep breath is all it takes to gather herself and ask the obvious. 

“Why the hell are we here? I thought you had _ something _.” She hisses even when Clark stretches out her hand to help her out of the car. 

“I think this place is a clue on Belfry” Clark offers too gently, her grasp firm on her hand. 

“And a lead on your mystery person?” She fixes a glare on her, Clark only smiles back. 

“What are the chances of that?” Roni doesn’t ease up on her because this already feels like a dead-end. Things that are too good to be true often are. 

“Come on, give it a shot.” She motions towards the dirt pathway leading away from the street. 

“I can’t believe I let you drive me here.” Her stomach turns as she heads down the pathway. 

Dirt sticks to the cracks in her boots and Roni doesn’t know about this. Doesn’t know why she feels this urge to run back to the neighborhood if it comes to it. Fights it because it feels like she has to. A rock almost trips her and just when she’s about to curse she feels a touch at the small of her back. Light and unsure. 

“You OK?” Clark looks at her with concern, like she understands the mess in her mind. “Fresh air making you sick?” 

“I’m fine.” Roni keeps walking because this needs to be over. Keeps walking until she hears laughter and so many voices talking each other. The pathway ends in a field, where there isn’t an inch left unplanted. There are people wheelbarrows and with baskets strapped to their backs.

“Cuando termines go to Ramón over there.” A woman in a sunhat tells her as she hands her a basket. Her chin is pointed in the direction of an older man sitting on an old truck bed, his skin tanned from the Sun. What little hair he has is grey. Her old man might look like that if he were still around. 

Clark quietly takes the basket from her with a nod to the woman. She's been here before. 

“So what’s the plan?” Roni asks trying to let the breeze soothe her. “Wait for one of these people to say the code word and pass us an envelope?” 

“And pick apples while we're at it.” She laughs, wanting Roni's approval. She hates it, how willing she is to give it. 

“This better not be a wild goose chase.” Her voice is as harsh as she can make it. “I know where you live.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Clark sounds pleased with herself. So much about her is puzzling, too many corners pieces to put together.

They walk towards the edge of the orchard, where only a few people stand on their ladders.The grass is up to her ankles and the Sun isn't nearly as warm as it should be. Roni could almost forget out here. Forget that none of this makes sense, forget about the throbbing in her head, the leads they aren't finding. 

They come up to great big tree, one that no one has picked. Its branches are weighed down and a few apples lie scattered around it. 

“This one?” 

Roni nods and runs her hand on the bark. It's feels like it's from that place in the back of her mind. Always been there. Feeling the grooves under her fingertips makes her breathe easier. Roni steps onto a ladder before she knows it. Twisting apples, pressing her thumb to the vine to break it. Without a knife, like her father taught her. Apple after apple until the basket on the ground is full. 

Roni doesn't know what to say when Clark looks at her. When she's at the foot at the ladder with two plastic cups and a paper bag. 

“Thought you'd want a pick-me-up.” She says in way of explanation. Roni hadn't even noticed her gone. 

“I...thank you.” Roni says outside herself, just an observer. And she knows looking in that something is missing. 

“It's cider.” Clark says sitting on the ground. “They're kinda one note here.” 

Her body lies against the ladder and her lips take that first sip for her. It's sweet, maybe too sweet. Not the right spices. Not enough time in a bottle before it was opened.

“Mine is better.” She hears herself saying. Not knowing if it's true. 

“Yeah?” Clark does something to her. The way her expression lights up. It's like she'd forgotten what that looks like on her. “You make your own cider?” 

“I used to.” Roni remembers that. Peeling and chopping her apples. Letting the air tell her if the taste was right, if it was good enough to be bottled. Allowed to sit in the basement of the bar. Right next to her old man’s good whiskey. She remembers, then it must be true. “People in Hyperion Heights aren't in the habit of getting drunk on apple juice.” 

“Understandable.” Some of her light has gone, but a glimmer still remains.

Roni gets the feeling that Clark has stumbled onto whatever answer she was hoping to find. It looks like she's burying it to dig up late night. Call whoever it is she calls when she closes her door to her. She can’t be expected to stand for this. 

“What was this supposed to accomplish, exactly?” Roni sees her, already bracing herself. “And no more bullshit mysterious answers.” 

“OK.” Clark puts down her cup and fix her eyes on the tree in front of them. “Belfry couldn't touch this place. She tried to take it, but somehow it’s still here.” 

“Go on.” 

“That's what I've been doing these past few days. Trying to figure out how far her... _ influence _ goes. It can get--.” 

“Annoying?” 

“You could say that,” Clark glances at her and then focuses the blade of grass she's tying around her finger. “But at least now we know that she can be stopped. Her money isn't good everywhere.” 

“How do you know that?’ Roni asks because it feels impossible. 

“Ramón finally budged on talking to me.” She says tilting her head in the direction of the old truck by the dirt path. “Said if I wanted to get anything off him I'd have to take a least a bushel with me to prove I was good people.” 

“You used me to bribe an old man.” She tells her as flatly as she can manage, trying to hide how impressed she is. “With apples.” 

“You're the one who wanted to be kept in the know.” Clark picks a chip out of the bag and plops into her mouth. “No matter what, remember?”

Roni rolls her eyes and rips the paper bag from her grasp. “You’re an ass.” 

Clark grins widely, Roni has to hide her own somehow. She takes another sip of her cider and furrows her brow. Cinnamon, that’s what rolling around in her mouth. It tastes like a memory. 

* * *

  
  


Canela en raja. It made the strongest cinnamon tea. Regina remembers she first had it when they greeted her grandmother and grandfather while in the Kingdom of White. It was too strong for her, she tried her hardest to keep from grimacing. Regina was twelve and felt her grandmother's immediate affection wrap around her. She only had to smile to make Regina ask for another serving, desperate to please her. It was a long time after that when Regina sprinkled cinnamon over hot chocolate and infused it into sugar and apples. She grabs of fistful of the bark and bags it to take home. To store in a jar and hope for the day it can be used again. 

Green peppers, tomato, garlic. Onions. Fruit. Regina goes over her list though it's not really about the items on it. Through her teeth she had made a promise to Zelena. Leave early on Fridays so that she wouldn’t be in need of rescuing so often. Her sister couldn’t have meant groceries but it’s Storybrooke. There is only so much to do in a town she designed in a dark curse.

“Paying for that now, aren’t I?” She mutters knocking on a watermelon. 

“Regina!” Leroy calls her from much too far away. “Come on now, I found her!” 

She brought this on herself, spoke into existence. All there is to do is laugh through a sigh and brace herself for Leroy and the rest of the dwarves. It’s funny, years ago this would have meant a mob was not too far behind. Ready to blame her for disappearances, memory loss and even damaged crops. Now it means town motions and petitions, compliments that ring true. It should be enough for someone like her. 

“What can I do for you?” Regina asks gingerly placing her prized fruit on the cart. All the dwarves have circled her with hats in their hands. 

“We’re sorry, gosh…” Sonny, Bashful, says flushing a deep red color. “We tried your office but your assistant..well we...Maybe we’ll make an appointment and.--” 

“Ugh, _ Christ. _” Leroy cuts in. “I’ll make this quick. We think there’s something down at the mines.” 

“Something?” She hears and feels her skepticism coming through. 

“Sister, don’t give me that look. We were chipping away at the stone with an ax and Dopey over there swears there was a flash of light.” 

“The mines used to house pure magic. Sometimes there’s residual energy,” Regina clasps her hands together as if she were at her desk. “I’m sure it’s all it is. I wouldn’t worry.” 

“But could you take a look? Just to be sure.” Doc pushes his glasses up his nose. “We would have gone to the station because Sheriff Swan usually deals with this type of concern. But since she left we thought you...”

Leroy elbows him hard enough to have his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose. 

Emma would. She would have gulped down her coffee, brush the crumbs off her lips. Would have said _ Show me _ and followed them down to the mines. Careful to not dismiss any of their concerns but still say with a smile _ See? Nothing to worry about. Sleepy was probably day dreaming again. _Regina takes a deep breath as she considers all eyes waiting on her. 

“We’re sorry.” Sony says again. “Really, you’re right. Surely.” 

“I’ll have a look.” 

“You will?” Bruce, Happy, already seems ecstatic. 

“I will.” Regina repeats because it’s the right thing to do. She knows by that sinking feeling in her stomach. 

The all cheer like she had just agreed to slay a dragon. They take the cart and all work together to get every item on her list.Leroy grunts until the cashier and bagboy let them bag everything themselves. 

“Never trust a boy over a dwarf with your bread.” He tells her as they fit everything in the boot of her car. “We’ll see you at the mines.” 

“So nice of you Mayor Mills to, to..” 

“Get a grip on yourself, Sonny.” 

Regina hears them arguing even as she starts her car. She could have magicked herself there, it would have been easier. Much easier, but the mines aren’t a place she wishes to be. Certainly not standing alone at their mouth, feeling the chill of the earth coming from them. She drives with a tight grip on the wheel, slows down more than she ever has at corners. Counts her breaths until they’re steady again. Regina wishes for Emma when she sets foot on pavement again. Wishes she would have found her there leaning against that ridiculous car of hers, looking at her like she’s in on the joke. Wishing never did her any good, especially now that she feels sick walking towards the mines. 

“Ready?” She asks them anxious to get this over with. 

They all nod, Doc offers his arm to escort her inside. Instantly she knows nothing is here, the mines have become dead stone and rock. Nothing is in the air for her to find. But Regina keeps it to herself, lets them lead her deeper. There are too many things she remembers about this place. _ Regina, I _ echoes down here. So do her pleads, thoughts of what was to become of her. What would be waiting at the other side. Of who she left here. Henry, Henry. Emma. Cold sweat runs down her back and her knees weaken. She doesn’t want to be here. Still Regina carries on, puts her hands over the stones that have a shine to them. Pretends to be studying the composition of the walls. It only takes a simple protection spell and her word to get them to sigh in relief. 

“Thanks, sister.” Leroy says opening the car door for her.

“I am the Mayor, after all.” 

“Take care, alright?” 

Regina knows her smiles comes off too weak. She starts her car and drives away without looking back. The air inside feels stale, too much like the mines. Her window can't go down quickly enough and she isn’t satisfied until her hair is a mess. It’s like when she was a girl, when she rode Rocinante to feel the wind breaking over her. Rode until her thighs bruised. Here she only drives aimlessly until it’s dark. Until she’s at the town line, leaning against the hood of her car. Watching the road that extended fay beyond her. She doesn’t mind the cold, doesn’t care about the groceries in her trunk. Here Regina loses track of time, with the dying leaves being caught in the wind. 

Maybe she could run too, just cross the town line and not come back. She could afford to, she thinks. With her son in another realm and Emma somewhere she won’t say. She could, _ she could. _Regina fishes her phone out of her pocket and this time there is no hesitation in dialing. It rings once or twice, not long enough to make her remember that Emma shouldn’t be pushed. 

“Hey.” She whispers into the phone feeling something hot and wet sticking to her words.

“Hey,” Emma returns with a shaky voice. There are faint noises in the background, people chattering. “Is everything OK?” 

“Yes…” _ Tell me to run too, _Regina can’t say. “I was at the mines today.” 

Her breathing is heavy, like she’s carefully picking her words. “Leroy and the gang saw that ghost again?” Emma’s voice is hushed and Regina wonders if the people surrounding her are those she keeps from her. She rubs at her eyes and clears her throat at the thought. 

“They did.” If she could fold into herself, if she could just tell her an ounce of the truth. “I put a protection spell in place.” 

“Why didn’t I think of that?” 

“Not your forte, I’m afraid.” It only gets her a trace of amusement from Emma. “Besides, it’s useless. It seems like the trigger killed magic down there. Nothing can go in or out.” 

“Mhmm.” The way way she only hums makes this sound like a mistake.

“I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry.” She has taken more than Emma had offered. Again.

“Regina....” Her voice is stronger over her name. “What’s really going on?” 

“I…I hated it down there. I hate what it reminded me of.” Her chest doesn’t feel lighter with the confession. “Losing Henry, what I almost did.” Regina won’t tell her how willing she had been to die, how it seemed fair to her then. 

“Going down there sucked for me too. For what's worth. ” Emma's tells her quietly. “But that’s where we first…”

“It was.” Regina chokes, knowing she can't speak of it. It was the worst thing about the mines, the reminder of what they could have been. Of what they aren't now. “I should have the damn thing closed again. I don't know what there is even to mine in Storybrooke.” 

“You built the town, you tell me.” Emma treads lightly, the effort is clear in the unsteady way she speaks. 

“Nothing but rock.” Regina shivers with the cold. “There wouldn't much point to a curse if there were something worthwhile down there. Except the failsafe, of course.” Perhaps if she says it like this, quickly and into the dark it can be more easily forgiven. “That was worth protecting.” 

“Yeah,” Emma has never sounded this far from her. “Though if you closed the place you'd have to deal with grumpy Leroy.” 

“What the hell has he been this entire time?” Her throat aches. 

Finally, finally she gets Emma to laugh. Closer to her now. Regina could stay out here all night if it meant she could feel her like this.But these past few hours have been laced with cursed coincides, a dial tone breaks through this fragile space.

“Zelena is calling. I've got to take it or I won't hear the end of it.” It's a desperate apology but Regina doesn't care. Hasn't for a long time when it comes to Emma. 

* * *

“I'm glad you called.” Clark says sitting at the edge of the bar. She whispers and Roni reads it off her lips. 

Roni had tried to ignore it, focus on ice cubes and rimming glasses with sugar. But Clark had been looking at her through wet eyes as she spoke into the phone. It feels like she's burning up, fiebre de todo el cuerpo. Roni wishes she knew what to give her. What she wants from her. Because she isn't breathing anymore, not when she's in Clark's orbit. 

“Need a refill?” Roni’s voice is raspy when asks.

“No...I'm good.” Clark tears the damp napkin under her glass. Looking like she's so far away from here.

“Tell me when you do.” 

It's another Friday night. A week since Roni's door had opened and dragged Clark inside in a swing. It feels longer. Maybe that's how it goes when someone like her always runs through her thoughts. Fuck. They're supposed to be coming up with a plan in between drinks. Roni can't be hung up on this melancholic shit. Even knowing that there's a limit to Victoria Belfry's pockets doesn't clear things up for her. She thought maybe Clark would set up camp with a laptop and somehow dig into financial records. Blueprints. Anything. But she only sat there scrolling through photos. Until her phone rang and she seemed to slowly melt away. 

“Roni?” Clark snaps her out of her thoughts. 

She heads over with a bottle and her rag on her shoulder. Roni pours just enough of the amber to cover the melting ice. 

“Thought of something?” 

“Yeah, actually.” Her brow is furrowed but that gloss is still over the green of her eyes. “Any dangerous sites on the neighborhood?” 

“If you ask white people it's the whole of Hyperion Heights.” Roni blows air through her nose. 

Clark shakes her head. “I mean like condemned buildings or something. Somewhere no one can go in.” 

“There's that abandoned construction site,” It's almost two blocks long. It's all rust and sharp edges, been that way since Roni remembers. “A project tower was supposed to go there. They stopped building because they found water. Or so I heard.” 

“Good.” She catches the question behind Roni's gaze. “I mean have hunch.” 

“You didn't tell me you were psychic, Kansas.” There are things Clark won’t share, that’s always been obvious. Roni tries to be fine with it because she doesn't owe her anything beyond this.

“If Belfry is hiding something she'd want it in a place no would even want to look.” 

“Do people even do that?” The idea is almost too ridiculous to consider. “Use ruins as a hide out?” 

“In my experience, yeah.” 

“And you have a hunch.” Roni sighs and can't do much now that Clark is smiling sheepishly. “_ Fine. _But we're waiting til the morning. Don't need to go stumbling around in the dark in there.” 

* * *

Roni doesn't know what possessed her. She hates mornings, especially ones that aren’t cold enough on Saturdays. Bitter-sweet coffee burns her tongue but doesn't say because it's too damn early. And because Clark guessed just how she takes it. Teaspoon of brown sugar y una lágrima de leche. 

“So how far is this place?” Clark asks like the morning it isn't fresh out of dawn. 

“Just another block.” Roni doesn't know why she seems to be so convinced that there is answer hidden under all of that junk. Doesn't see how they've jumped from an orchard to this. This collection of steel and cement in what should have been the heart of the neighborhood. 

The purple and yellow of graffiti on the brick of the building begins to fade away as they near the spot. The kids and their paint cans haven’t been willing to go into this place it seems. Even the KEEP OUT. DANGER signs are struggling to stay in their place. Almost brown with age. Roni touches the metal sheets lining the place and feels the rust sticking to her fingers. 

“You’re sure about this?” She asks her one last time. 

“As much as I can be.” Clark replies with a shrug. “You can wait here if you don’t…” 

“I have never been a look-out and I’m not starting now.” Roni tells her and Clark is quick to accept it. 

“Just checking.” Her attention turns to metal sheets and chains in front of her. “We need to find a way in.” 

Roni scans the fence and her eyes land on a dent and sheet bent out of place. The gravel around has been disturbed, sand and pebbles have made their way to the sidewalk. 

“Looks like someone beat us to it.” She points to the spot and drinks what’s left of her coffee. If it’s Belfry or one of her cronies Roni is gonna need all the caffeine she can get. 

Clark pats her hip like she’s searching for a gun, shakes her head when she realizes her mistake. She works as quietly as she can to lift the shift and lets Roni go in first. The place is bigger than she thought it would be, a big crater with only the skeleton of a structure. The soil around it looks like clay and the old beams are sinking into it. Tool sheds at the corners and a broken down bulldozer at the other end. A place at the bottom of the crater has been boarded up, it’s covered with yellow tape and signs. Someone is moving frantically down there. He’s tall and his movements are rushed and erratic. Roni looks at Clark who nods in agreement. We need to be careful is what they both mean to say. 

Clark lets herself slide down the gravel and is there to steady Roni when she follows. Her hand doesn’t linger enough on her waist to call it anything. He’s standing with his back to them, his hands dirtied as he runs them through his hair. 

“Lucy!” It’s Henry, she knows instantly. “Lucy!” 

Both move on instinct. Scramble to get to him. 

“Henry!” Roni touches his elbow with apprehension. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s Lucy. She..she..fuck.” His voice is hoarse and desperate. “How am I..” 

“Kid, kid.” Clark grabs him by the shoulders. “_ Henry. _ I need you to calm down.” 

He breathes in, his eyes jumping from Roni back to Clark. “She called me. Said she’s gonna try and find magic like I did in the book. That this place is like…I came as fast as I could. Jacinda...she isn’t..” 

“Where is she?” Roni searches the lot already knowing what to fear. 

“If she’s following that _ stupid _ book,” His voice breaks. “Then she’s down there. I don’t think she can hear me..I. I need to go after her.” 

“No,” Clark says it like there’s no room for argument. “You’re too shaken up for it.” 

“And what are you doing?” Roni asks watching her toss her jacket aside. “You aren’t…” 

“It’s OK. I’m used to this kind of thing,” There is a shy and tentative smile as Roni closes the space between them. And she swears, swears, they have done this before. Been here before. “Stay with him. Get a hold of Jacinda.” 

“Just,” The word slips through her breath. “Bring her back.”

Clark nods and heads towards the signs of danger. Disappears into what looks like a mouth into the earth. Roni holds Henry by the waist, the only place her arms can reach. She quickly takes her phone and dials Sabine’s number. If Jacinda isn’t picking up then Sabine will, already up for work across town. Roni doesn’t sugar-coat it when she answers, says Lucy slipped out from Belfry’s penthouse and got herself in trouble. Sabine hangs up as soon as she’s told her that they’re at the abandoned construction site. They’ll rush down here, half dressed and with their hearts in their throats. 

“This is my fault.” Henry chokes out.

“Henry, no. Lucy is the most determined kid around.” She knows to rub his back and he seems to give into her touch. “I'm sure…”

“Last time we spoke,” His voice is unsteady like the rest of him. “I tried to convince her that it wasn't real again. The book. Lucy, she, uh...she said I just needed my heart back. Truest believer, you know? She's down there because she wants me to believe.”

“That doesn't mean this is on you.” 

Henry says nothing and hangs his head. Roni resists the urge to smooth down his hair and promise things will work out. She doesn't know why, only that it comes from that place in the back of her mind. Casi afuera del olvido. 

“LUCY?! RONI?!” Comes Jacinda's voice above them. 

“Down here!” She shouts back waving at them. 

They're quick to slide into the crater, Sabine closely following Jacinda. Henry races to catch Jacinda in his arms. Like he hadn't been shaking in Roni's. 

“Where's... where's my baby?” She asks him already tearing up. 

“Lucy’s…” He begins.

“Henry. Where?” Jacinda grips the ends of his jacket, the skin of her knuckles stretching with the effort.

“Jay.” Sabine tries to soothe her. “It'll be OK.” 

“You don't know that.” She hisses like Roni has never heard her before. “Coño!”

“Have you called anyone?” Sabine asks already knowing the answer. 

Roni closes her eyes, trying to still her pulse. Says a silent prayer she thought she'd forgotten. Please, please. Just this once. Something shifts in the air that makes her open her eyes. There's nothing at first, the same steel and clay. Nothing until a flash of light comes from the opening she had been swallowed by. 

“Mom!” Lucy cries out.

“Lucy!” It feels like they all call out to her as they rush to find her.

Clark has on her back, Lucy is holding her cellphone in one of her hands. They used it to light the way back. Clark is covered in grime and her jeans are wet up to her knees. But she's smiling. Smiling as she brings Lucy to her chest and whispers something in her ear. Lucy nods like it's a secret. 

“Careful,” Clark says handing her over to Jacinda. “She twisted her ankle.” 

“Sara Lucia, uno de estos dias me vas a matar.” She says kissing her hair. “I love you, you know that?” 

“I'm sorry.” Lucy hangs on tighter. “I'm so sorry, mom..” 

“Bebe, you gotta stop running on us.” Sabine running her fingers through her hair. 

“We should take her to a clinic, just to be safe.” Henry says offering his to carry her out. Jacinda hands her over and that too feels familiar. Almost made up, belonging to someone else.

“Bye, Clark.” Lucy says lifting her head from Henry's shoulder. Her eyes are set on watching her until they can't anymore.

“See ya, kid.” She breathes out and puts her hands on her knees. 

“That was...I don't know how you did that.” Roni tells her, studying the tears in her shirt. The pale skin underneath. 

“Told you I’m used to this kind of thing.” Clark laughs and winces as she stands up straight. 

That's when Roni sees it. The dark stain on her side. Sees how Clark's knees buckle and she moves to catch her. Her shirt feels wet under her fingers and her breathing is shallow. 

“It's nothing.” She mumbles trying to walk away from her. 

“_ Idiot, _ it'll feel like nothing after I'm done with you.” 

Roni doesn't think about anything else but getting her out of here. Not with her heart pounding like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Regina is reading is Allende's La Casa de los Espiritus, I was paraphrasing/summarizing and adding a few things of my own.


	5. Leche condensada

The place is bare just as bare as Carlos keeps it. White-washed walls and second-hand furniture he probably got from his mother. It’s a mirror of her apartment. But where jackets and bras hang from her closet door Clark has nothing . An old duffel bag sits in a corner. Her sink is empty while Roni’s is usually full of mismatched coffee mugs. The kitchen counter is empty except for a dog-eared paperback, looking forgotten instead of read .The only sign that someone lives here is Clark herself, stretched out on the couch. Knocked on her ass by the pain meds they’d given her at the clinic. Roni had taken her to the nearest walk-in. She feels sick just thinking of the place, the lime-green walls and the smell of disinfectant trying to cover up the smell of disease. Roni had thought of the gash at Clark's side as they'd sat on the slippery plastic chairs. Thought of the ways it could get worse just by breathing that air.

“Your girl needs that dressed again tonight.” A nurse told her behind a curtain.

“She’s just my neighbor.” It’d felt like a lie when Roni had said it. 

“Aha,” She'd jotted a few instructions down. “Stitches will dissolve on their own but it's gotta stay clean. Make sure she comes in for her second shot of tetanus. It was a rod that got her, right?” 

“I don’t...” The nurse had fixed her with a look that had her nodding. “I'll remind her.” 

Clark had mumbled something about it being nothing as they slowly made their way up to their floor. That _ nothing _ had looked blue and purple on her skin. For the life of her Roni can’t figure out why is it that she’d felt the need to lay her hands on her side, carefully thread her broken skin back together with sheer will power. Make the blue and purple back to that milky shade she forgets is real. 

  
  


There isn’t much to do but stand around con los brazos cruzados, feeling useless in the emptiness of this place. There should be something for her to do. Roni could tidy up if there were anything that would make a mess. At least she can put Clark’s jacket on the hook behind the door. She grabs it off the couch and winces when a phone slides out and hits the floor. Clark’s eyes flutter as Roni bends down to inspect the damage. 

“Thank God.” She whispers to herself when she finds the screen intact. 

Intact but unlocked to Clark’s call log. A second, it’s all it takes for Roni to zero in on what she shouldn’t see. Last three calls, days apart. Different hours with no pattern. _ Your Worship. _207-248-3663. The number rings familiar but she can’t place it. Like it’s something Roni has forgotten or made up. This isn’t who she is running from. But it is who she left behind. And Roni doesn’t understand what is it that pulls at her. She shakes her head and quickly locks the screen and places it on the coffee table. 

There must be something she can do. Something that would make her forget about about Your Worship. About the sharpness of six and seven, let four vanish from her mind. Pain creeps at the back of her head and the sound of knife on the wood of cutting board comes to mind. Chopping onions. Slicing garlic. Tomato soup and grilled cheese. It doesn’t feel like thought that belongs to her but she isn’t paying it too much mind. It’s something to do, a distraction with several steps. That would take time. 

Roni turns the knob as quietly as she can but it’s the damn hinges that Carlos never oils that give her away.

“...leaving?” Clark mumbles from the couch, eyes still closed.

“I’ll be back,” She bites into her lip as she mulls over her words. “With provisions.” 

“Grilled cheese?” The question falls between a giggle and a yawn. 

Roni stands at the door, trying to ignore the chill in her spine. 

  
  


* * *

Empty-nester. That is the word Granny had used today in a huff. It’d been well-intentioned, said as Cesar served her lunch. Regina hadn’t thought of it like that. She’d been alone before, behind the walls of the manor. Eighteen years. The months Henry hadn’t wanted to be hers and the year in New York when he hadn’t known he was. The word rings in her mind throughout the afternoon as she cuts and presses apples. Regina makes it harder than it needs to be, a snap of her fingers could take care of it. But she prefers it this way, feeling the edge of her knife come just to her thumb. Have her arms ache with the effort of the press. It’s the routine she used to keep before Henry. Boil the glass bottles in the morning. Ready the spices before lunch and press the apples for juice in the afternoon. Today it doesn’t feel enough, not when she remembers what life sounds like within these walls. Regina needs to get out them. 

She races upstairs and pulls out a pair of black leggings from her closet. Socks her feet in matching color. It’s only the sweatshirt that gives her pause._ Storybrooke’s Sheriff Department. _A mock birthday present from Emma. Only worn during the dead of winter in the privacy of her bedroom. She slips it on, the looks she gets can’t get much worse. Sympathy, pity. Whatever they hold for her because Emma had gone not long after Henry. Regina’s hair is long enough to tie back, it’s been a while since she allowed it to grow. With that last piece in place she is out the door before she can change her mind.

A run will work, she never ran before Henry. Just watched the days and everything in them go by with clock-like precision. It’s the road heading towards the woods she takes and Regina could almost laugh at the irony. Her knees aren’t used to the impact but she welcomes whatever new ache comes her way. It’s good to feel the air filling her lungs, feel her chest expand with the effort. Regina doesn’t stop until the ground is uneven under her feet and roots are cutting her steps. The air has always felt thicker out here, with the smell of moss and dirt. She can’t remember what is that she saw as she cast the curse, can’t remember if she had thought of this place at all. If it always meant to be here despite her deepest wishes and careful planning. 

“God, I fucking hate this place.” Regina breathes out putting her head between her knees. 

The ground is damp under her feet like it always was when she forced herself to come out here. To breathe the scent of him and tell herself that they made sense. Meant to be despite her deepest wishes. It’s hard not to think of her own words, made sharp by Robin’s grave. Regina had looked at her other half, burning with righteous anger. Spat the truth out like sharpened steel. It felt like a cold blade to the gut then, the guilt. The secret relief she’d felt. Eating away at her when she didn’t have the Queen to pick up the pieces inside her. Regina would have gone mad without her, she knows that now. Would have tried to atone for those thoughts for three life times had they not become one again. All she needs to do now is keep moving forward. 

A path takes her along the water, to pebbles and a dark shore. Salt water sprays her hair and she could almost get used to it. Almost think of memories and places that are hers alone. But it had been in the salt of a sea that she’d known that there was no going back when it came to Emma. When she had jumped into the water and lied unconscious on the deck of a pirate ship. Regina remembers the way she’d looked, the way Emma had tugged at the corners of her. She kicks at the pebbles because it isn’t fair, it isn’t fair that the echo should follow her everywhere. She picks up her pace and tries to focus on the sweat building in the back of her neck. Running down her back as the air around her grows colder. Colder because time doesn’t stop for her anymore, the clock tower still marks the time even without Emma. Gone for weeks and hours she dares not count. 

It’s only the sight of that damn pirate ship that stops her. The docks have been his territory since a ring had been slipped on his finger. Regina has avoided this place ever since, afraid that what little that belongs to her is taken away. She cannot deal with Hook today, doesn’t trust herself to not squeeze the life out of him. 

But then black sails go up with the wind. An anchor that has just begun to rust is lifted and the Jolly Roger begins to steer away from land. Snow had told her that he’d talked about leaving for good and Regina can’t help but laugh watching him go. The thing she had prayed for finally happening at a time when it no longer matters. But still Regina stays until the ship leaves through a sunken portal in the water. When there is nothing but the tide left she knows she’s just like that ship. Already drifting away now that her anchors are gone.

  
  


* * *

Henry will handle the bar while she’s away. Quietly repaying her for this morning. His gaze had been firm when he’d thanked her for having his back and had shooed her away from her own bar. Roni had agreed only because it’s another slow Saturday night. The neighborhood’s pockets are emptying. Tonight Roni doesn’t mind. She’d been driving herself crazy running numbers and shaking up the ice for cocktails for Belfry’s newcomers. Thinking of Clark sleeping on a yellowed pillow, tugging at her like a memory. Thinking of the way she’d looked at Roni when took that first bite of food, like they were both home. Whatever that means. 

“Mierda.” Roni mutters spinning her keys as she heads back. Her old man would be pleased to know he was right. 

She unlocks the metal gate that is just beginning to rust at the bottom and heads up the stairs. It’s lucky Roni has each step memorized because the light’s died and it’s only the occasional glimmer of streetlight that helps her along the way back to Clark’s. The door has been left unlocked for her and Roni feels it pulling a smile from her.

“Ow!Motherfucker!” Clark bites out from the bathroom. 

“You better not be going what I think you’re doing, Kansas!” 

Roni tosses her jacket on the couch and doesn’t bother knocking before she steps in. Clark practically falls into the tub trying to cover herself with a towel. 

“Jesus, Roni!” Every patch of skin above Clark’s neck is red. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Roni rolls her eyes to keep them from doing much else. 

Clark is still in the boxer shorts Roni left her in but her grey sweatshirt is hanging from the door knob. The socks on her feet are mismatched and her hair is tied in a bun so it won’t be in the way. Gauze and antiseptic are sitting inside the sink. Mujer mas burra. 

“You’re dumber than I thought if you were trying to do this on your own,” Roni points at the kitchen table and gathers the supplies from the sink. 

“Was kinda hoping I’d manage it before you came back,” Clark admits stepping out to the kitchen. “It’s harder than it looks.” 

She turns a chair around and eases herself onto it, making sure her towel is pressed to her bare chest. The look of her skin is worse than Roni remembers, it’s practically black around the wound. Stitches form a curve from her shoulder blade to her ribs, scarlet scrapes are everywhere. 

“No kidding.” Roni can’t swallow back the gentleness in her voice as she damps the soft cotton with antiseptic. Carefully she presses a gauze to Clark’s skin and watches how she swallows back her groans. “You never said how you managed to do this to yourself.” 

“The way to Lucy was blocked. She was small enough to slip through some rubble. I wasn’t.” Clark takes a deep breath, one Roni feels under her fingertips. “Tried to clear as much as I could but there was no avoiding it. Got the kid out unscathed though. That’s all that matters.” 

“Why did you…” Roni begins as presses ointment onto a q-tip suddenly too aware of where she is. Too aware of Clark’s naked back. The broken skin that waits for her touch. It feels like a memory too. 

“Kid was in danger,” She smiles weakly. “Didn’t stop to think of anything else.” 

Roni is still struck by it, the way Lucy had clung to her so tightly. Was carried away without taking her eyes off her. Maybe all kids look at their rescuer like that but something tells her it’s more than that. But she won’t press her luck tonight. 

“Find anything?” Carefully she tapes everything in place. 

“No. Just water.” She leans into Roni’s touch like she is not even aware of it. “Whatever Belfry is protecting is not down there.” 

“You sound convinced.” Roni says moving towards the sink to wash her hands and give Clark some space to get dressed.

“Thirteen stitches will kinda do that to you,” Her voice comes from the bathroom again. “Guess we’ll just have to keep looking.” 

“Wait til you get another one of your hunches,” She settles on the couch and throws her head back. At a loss as to what they’re doing or where they’re going. “And hit another dead end.” 

“ I know how this looks now,” Clark sits next and for a moment Roni thinks she might reach for her hand. “But trust me, we’ll find something soon.” 

“Just make sure to stay in one piece.” Roni dares to look at her and finds Clark already gazing at her. “I don’t think I’m cut out for nursing.” 

“I..uh...yeah. I will.” Clark skin flushes red as she stumbles with her words. “Thank you for... You didn’t have to...” 

“I’m only holding you to your end of the deal,.” Roni closes her eyes and hears Clark laugh at that. “And if I had to mix another cocktail tonight I was gonna set someone on fire.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Her voice has gone warmer and Roni resists the urge to curl against Clark. She could drift away like that, she knows. Like the tide is taking her. 

* * *

Sage. Semilla de mango from the old world. Preserved figs and oil for when the way back needs to be found. Regina is careful with the ingredients in her vault, they’re ordinary but they have always been with her. Magic that not even Rumple could touch. She’d woken up today and felt the floor cold and hard under her feet and known she couldn’t tolerate a Sunday at the house. Her vault is always the obvious choice where she retreats when her chest is too tight or the air in a room too thick. Now that she is here among her books and jars Regina needs a purpose. A problem that can be broken down into parts, something that lets her be frustrated. Something that has a solution. 

“Henry.” She whispers into the air. 

His letter is a drawer in her dresser, it’s the last she’s heard from her son. Communicating between realms is tricky at best, Emma had talked her into enchanting his phone before he left. _ If there’s a chance it works, why not take it? _Regina could have gone over the science and the magic involved but she only enveloped his phone in the purple of her magic knowing it could never work. If she could talk to him even for a minute perhaps some of the hollowness in her chest would be filled. The right spell could work, the right words in the right order surrounded with the right ingredients. But there is no way of telling where Henry is, where his realm even lies in a map. This is a problem that can be broken down into steps, made into a plan. Regina can pretend that she has always been one to follow plans, that they always work in her favor.

“Make a map. Pin the realm. Find the spell. Cast it.” Regina lists her steps pulling down a volume on the geography of the cosmos from a shelf. Four steps that make everything seem simpler. 

He would love this, she knows. This talk of realms and dimensions. Bending space and time on a whim. Her boy would and that is what keeps her flipping each page. _ Si yo pudiera detener el tiempo _ an old scribble stares at her. Regina remembers this book, a lost treasure in a merchant’s cart. He hadn’t known the value of it but Regina had recognized the feathered serpent on its spine. Its pages are filled with annotations, spells, and melancholic notes. The last two pages are a map to the stars, a way out of a realm. Regina has the thin lines that make it up memorized, once she once had hoped held the answer to her escape. Nothing but a story in the end. _ Espere por ti pero vinieron por mi _ is written along the outer borders of the stars. The words are the prick of a needle between her ribs. Perhaps the answer is somewhere here but she doesn’t have the strength to keep searching its pages today. Regina shuts the book and decides it’s her scrolls she needs. With words from all over, words she worked hard to decipher. She works harder today trying to find the way to her son. 

It’s a familiar and insistent buzz coming from her pocket that breaks her concentration. Her smile is involuntary when she slides her thumb across the screen.

“A Sunday call. Isn’t that against the rules?” Regina teases with a lightness she does not feel. 

“When have you ever been a fan of rules?” Emma’s voice is raspy as it reaches her. 

“So long as they’re mine.” 

“True.” She stiffles something like a groan. “Where are you? You sound far away.” 

“My vault. I thought it could use a clean.” Regina says as she moves to sit on the steps. It takes so little time to find something other than the truth. “It gathers dust faster than you know.” 

“Bound to happen in a graveyard.” She teases back but Regina can her an unsaid thought in the tone of her voice. “Being underground can’t help it.” 

“If it were up to you it would be at the Storybrooke arcade or somewhere equally ridiculous.” 

“I’m more of a clock tower type of gal,” More and more it sounds like Emma tempers her voice just for her. “Or the classic secret staircase behind a bookshelf. Cut the eyes out of paintings.” 

“Sounds like someone watched one too many talking dog cartoons.” Regina lifts her chin and adds just enough exasperation to her words to keep up the pretense. 

“Roll your eyes all you want, lady. But that just means you watched Scooby Doo too.” Emma hisses in pain and Regina can’t pretend anymore. 

“Are you hurt?” She nearly chokes at the question.

“ I…” It sounds like she is picking and choosing from the truth. “Yeah. A little.” 

“_ Emma. _” Regina wants to plead, plead her to let her come to her again. 

“It’s fine. It was stupid, really. I slipped and fell on my ass.” She laughs and it makes Regina place a hand on her chest. “It was so pathetic the nurse had to embellish the form.” 

“The nurse? So you had to go to the hospital for this?” 

“No?”

“Emma!” Her heart is pounding and her hands itch to do something. 

“Regina.” She turns earnest in that way that Regina has always been defenseless against. “I’m fine. Watching a stupid dog cartoon and eating pizza straight from the box.” 

“At the hospital?” Regina snaps.

“No. At my place.” It sounds patient, even soothing. But not enough that she can overlook that Emma has somewhere she calls hers. And it’s nowhere near her. 

“That better be true.” Tears well up in her eyes. Angry or heartbroken ones, Regina can’t say. 

“You don’t have to worry about me.” 

“That’s...good to know.” Regina lies for the second time today.

* * *

There is a tint to the neighborhood now, Roni can’t even try to deny it. Color de rosa, but that’s not even it. It isn’t like a song in an old record. It’s different but like too many things in her life she can’t put her finger on it. It feels like a new color blooms every day, like the parts of her mind refuse to sit still. Maybe Roni could blame it on Clark. On breathing the same air as her for too long. Like the air is charged with coming lighting and thunder. All it would take is a push. A touch. Skin on skin again.Maybe this what everything going to shit looks like. All she knows it’s that it’s Thursday and Thursday has never looked like this. Beyond the grey of the pavement. It should scare her. 

Roni sighs and heads into Gomez’s shop for some canned fruit. More and more of Belfry’s crowd are coming in and they all want something sweet and bright. Fruit syrup and a splash of watered down vodka. Enough to waste the average white woman. 

“Hey Roni, you going to Chayo’s thing?” Teofilo asks from behind the counter.

“You know I am.” She replies with a smile but doesn’t stop. 

Gomez’s is always warm inside, Roni likes that about it. There isn’t a real order to the shelves and there is the shaved ice stand at the back with an old booth and a couple of tables cramped up against the wall. Roni wanders the aisles until she finds the cans and remembers she needs some type sauce if she’s going to make her chicken taste like anything. Tamarind, closer to the back. 

“The book doesn’t mention anything about that.” Lucy says puzzled.

“I don’t think the book knows the full truth,” Clark replies so sure of her words. “Books can lie, believe me.” 

Roni forgets the tamarind sauce and walks straight towards them. They’re waiting for their shaved ice. Lucy with her bandaged ankle but in her ballet get-up anyway. Clark is in a loose Sonics sweatshirt and jeans, probably has moved more today than she should. The scene doesn’t make sense. How Lucy can’t seem to keep her excitement to herself and the gentle squeeze Clark gives her shoulder as Melisa loads a block of ice into the machine. It’s so familiar, so easy between them.

“So what’s the plan?”

Clark laughs and shakes her head. “Pick a flavor, kid.” 

“ Blue. But we need a…” Lucy puts her hands on her hips but then rushes to meet her and wrap her arms around her waist. “Roni!” 

“Tesoro, does your mom know that you’re here?” Roni glares at Clark who is giving her a sheepish smile. 

“I can’t dance anyway! Madame just makes me count the beats in the music. Like I’m _ five _!” 

“So that’s a no.” 

“It’s not like Ivy cares,” Lucy mutters. “She won’t even know I’m gone.” 

“And you’re her partner in crime?” Roni pokes at the one spot she knows Clark isn’t sore. 

“Accessory to the crime. Ran into her outside.” She is still smiling, and with that comes another color. 

“That’s what happened. Really.” 

Roni hums skeptically even if she has no reason to believe it’s a lie. 

“Can you be bribed with a snow cone?” Clark is already reaching for change in her back pocket. 

“Make it a large one.” 

Lucy rushes to claim one whole side of the booth for herself. She grins broadly at her, like a kid with a plan. One bubblegum flavor and two cherries later they’re all cramped together. Clark digs her spoon in and Lucy gasps.

“What?” 

“You can’t eat just like _ that. _” Her outrage is real enough to make Roni laugh. 

“Like what?” 

“You gringos just don’t love yourselves.” Roni says opening the mini can of la lechera and pouring condensed milk on all their shaved ice. “Try it now.” 

Clark blinks at her like she has for the past few days, like she is trying to decide if this moment is real. She takes a large spoonful of the cherry colored ice and brings it to her lips. 

“Why is this first time I’ve had it like this?!” Clark says going for more and Lucy rolls her eyes and attacks her own mountain of ice. 

“Oww brain freeze!” Lucy exclaims once her lips have gone blue and half of the ice is gone. 

“Rub your tongue on the roof of your mouth, it’ll make it go away.” Clark tells her as Roni hands her a napkin to wipe her mouth clean. 

It strikes her there. Watching Lucy crumble her napkin and tasting sugar. That weird feeling of deja vu again. Ice cream, not raspado. A booth somewhere else. Clark or someone like her by her side. Maybe more colors want to come through right now. Real or made up. Something. It’s making her sick. The air is too thick and the throbbing in hear head makes her close her eyes. 

“Got a brain freeze too?” Roni feels Lucy’s hand on hers. “Try Clark’s trick, it really works.” 

“How many brain freezes you think she got to figure that one?” She opens her eyes and finds Lucy looking at her like she’s making a wish. 

“Hey don’t knock it, lady.” Clark says with pink lips and a half full mouth. Roni tries to smile but it only comes out as grimace. “You OK?” 

“Yeah. Course.” 

She doesn’t miss the look Lucy and Clark share. Like it’s a secret. Lucy pulls her phone from her bag and makes a show of a face. Wide eyes and a hand to her mouth.

“Better get back to Madame’s before class is over!” 

Lucy is almost down noodle aisle before she turns back and practically throws herself into their arms. 

“Forgot to say thank you!” She says before she’s hurrying out the store again.

“Guess she really liked that blue favor, huh.” Clark says quietly, something unsaid caught in her throat. 

“What were you talking about before?” Roni’s head is still throbbing and she worries about Lucy. 

“Henry’s book,” She quickly admits. “Found her outside and I figured it was better she hung out with me than getting into trouble again. Kid just needs someone to listen to her.” 

“Been there before?” Despite having felt Clark’s bare skin under her fingers there is little she knows about her. There are too many questions Roni hasn’t been asking. 

“Something like that.” Clark shifts in her seat and drinks whatever syrup is left in her cup. “Lucky you came in. I was just gonna go look for you.” 

“Really? Why?” The pain lessens as it reaches her chest. This Roni can deal with, it's like being hungover. 

Clark searches through her phone and then slides it over to her. A message from Tilly. _ Bell emoji. Three pairs of eyes. 35th NE. Moon emoji. 22. _

“Does that mean anything to you?” She slides it back before something not meant for her pops into the view. Your Worship. 207-248-3663. 

“Belfry. Something odd at 35th. Tonight at ten.” Clark is so obviously pleased with herself and she scoffs in return. “So, are you up for a stake out tonight?” 

Roni lets the question simmer for a while. The first solid lead. No orchards and fresh air. No hunches and rust. No stitches and antiseptic. 

“You’re gonna run me out of business, Kansas.” 

* * *

_ Travel fast enough and you could potentially find yourself in the future. It’s about time really. I’m not saying anything new of course. Einstein first talked about relativity. If the body were able to withstand this speed then…” _

The television screen tints her living room in a ghostly blue and white. Regina doesn’t bother to check the time. It’s late, too late to muster the energy to go over her notes. Too late on Thursday night to do anything but sleep. She presses her warm cup of tea against her chest. A mix of chamomile and linden to help get her relax, like this documentary is meant to lull her to sleep. It’s been four nights since she managed to sleep more than a couple of hours. Emma is to blame. Regina thinks of her, draped over a couch. Alone or surrounded by faces she doesn’t know. Faces whose names Emma won’t share with her. 

_ And really who is to say that there aren’t pockets of dimensions? Think of it this way. Think of our reality as a room inside a house. Every wall in that place leads somewhere else. Completely different yet somehow connected. Now maybe the question is about finding the energy that would allow us to..well, open a window. _

Regina knows that this new goal of hers could easily consume her. She has already spotted the signs. The coffee rings on stationery and the longer showers she uses to clear her mind. It was the same way when she first learned of a dark curse. When she was trying to find a way to her son in the outside world. There is only one way that will get her to stop thinking about reaching out to Henry. Succeeding. Once she does then she can have her peace of mind back, just like she did eighteen years ago. 

She takes her phone and opens Emma’s conversation. _ On my way. _ That was the last message, two months ago. Regina checks her profile photo, it’s that stupid yellow car. It’s as far as she can go tonight, she wouldn’t be able to stomach her camera roll tonight. Not with older photos and Emma and Henry smiling during their last trip together. Regina scrolls past her own one word replies, not knowing what is that she wants. Her phone slips and she accidentally ends up calling Emma. In a panic she presses red and hopes there was never a dial tone. 

Her phone rings seconds later. 

“Can’t sleep?” Emma asks before Regina gets a word in. 

“I…” Regina considers saying she hadn’t meant to call but now that she has her. She can’t let go. “No. I had a little too much coffee to get me through a meeting and it backfired.” 

“Faeries?” 

“Worse. Former nobles.” 

“Wouldn’t they be happier back in the Enchanted Forest?” It sounds like Emma is fiddling with her radio at the other end.

“Indoor plumbing.” Regina says off-handedly, because wants something real about Emma’s day. Anything. Her greed always gets her in the end.“Emma, how are you…” 

“I was actually thinking of hitting you up because your _ favorite _song is playing.” It’s unclear if she even heard her last words. 

_ They took credit for your second symphony _

_ Rewritten by a machine on new technology _

Her heart feels tighter within the bone and her words are all but gone. She hates this song. It played endlessly in Storybrooke for twenty-eight years. She’d told Emma this after she had shut off the audio system at Mario’s with a snap of her fingers. They’d ordered a Neapolitan pizza that night. Regina lets a couple of verses play before she finds her footing again. 

“You were thinking of calling me to play that atrocity for me?” The question is just dry enough to pass as a joke. “It’s nice to know I’m being thought of.” 

“Regina…”There is always a change in Emma whenever she calls, like a pendulum. Regina wishes she would let her know what it is. 

“I had a snow cone with condensed milk today.” 

“Did you like it?” Now that Emma has given her a morsel she had so desperately wanted Regina finds that new questions plague her._ Where was this? Who were you with? Why wasn’t it me? _

“Should be illegal not be given the choice.” Emma clears her throat but Regina can still hear a car door opening and then slamming close. A whisper of thanks, Emma isn’t alone anymore. “Hey, I gotta go.” 

“Of course.” It’s impossible to ignore the way her voice bends and stretches to avoid breaking. _ Why isn’t it me? _

_ And just like that. A world and a life completely different to ours and yet still our own. _

  
  
  


* * *

_ You were the first one _

_ Oh-a-oh _

_ You were the last one _

“Who knew you’d have God-awful taste, Kansas?” Roni says turning the dial until she finds a decent station. The paper bag is warm on her lap and the cup in her hand is beginning to sweat. It’s a balancing act she’s pulling off inside this car. 

Clark hides behind the paper-cup, it’s not a smile that she wants to cover. It’s whoever was at the other end, that voice that turns her eyes into glass. 

“It can’t be Guns ‘n Roses all the time.” 

“What are you implying?” Roni unwraps the tip of her burrito and takes a bite. She isn’t supposed to notice these things about Clark. 

“Nothing.” 

“You were on the Sonic Youth and Nirvana side of the feud, weren’t you?” She shakes her head because this could only happen to her. 

“How did you know?” 

“All that flannel in your laundry.” It’s too late to take it back now and Roni can’t do anything but look out into the night. 

“Alright, point taken.” Clark says in mock surrender. 

They eat in silence only the occasional ripping of foil and ice against paper. They’re half a block away from 35th, away from a spotlight. Lying in wait for Victoria Belfry and for what could finally do her in. Roni sighs and checks her phone. Ten fifteen. She is going to go crazy if this is how only fifteen minutes inside a parked car feel like.

“So this is what you do for a living?” Roni asks rolling down her window. “Just sit here?” 

Clark looks at her like she does sometimes. Like she saw a ghost from the corner of her eye. It goes off with a pop in her head, a pang of pain and color that goes away as quickly as it came. 

“And wait for the mark.” 

“Don’t you get bored?” 

“Why? You feel like playing I spy?” 

Roni opens her mouth to reply when she spots Belfry’s car. “I spy a snake.” 

“She sticks to schedule I’ll give her that.” Her eyes narrow and kills the radio. 

It’s like watching a lioness hunt, Roni realizes. Clark’s shoulders drop and even her breathing grows quieter. Her eyes are latched onto Belfry. To the way she steps out of her car and fixes her jacket. To the pace of her heels and the bouquet of white lilies she carries. Belfry has always struck her as cardboard, a trace of another shape. Too much like a woman like her should look. Straight hair that reaches her chin and a stiffness to the way she carries herself. 

“Should we follow?” 

“No.” She lies back on her seat. “Not this time around anyway. Can’t risk her suspecting we’re keeping tabs on her.” 

“But we’ll go check the place out.” Roni asks hearing her the restlessness in her voice. “And find what she’s been hiding.” 

“After we know she’s gone for the night.” Clark turns patient, like she’s had years of experience with Roni. 

“Fine.” Roni crosses her arms and settles for watching the empty street. Tapping her fingers against her thigh to beat of the drums. Trying to avoid glancing in Clark’s direction, stopping far at blonde curls draped on her shoulders. 

Until there is a loud bang at the back of the car. 

“Hijueputa..!” She mutters.

Clark makes a fist and tightens her grip on the handle ready to fight. A distinct laugh follows it and Roni instantly relaxes. 

“A mole could spot you two.” Jamilah says as she leans against Roni’s window. “Lucky Belfry isn’t as smart as one.” 

“You _ bitch _.” Roni breathes out fondly and steps out of the car. “Get in before you give us away.” 

Jamilah snorts before climbing in. She’s still in her work overalls, a washed out blue that has always looked good against the dark brown of her skin. Tonight she decided it was orange that should be on her fingernails and on the scarf that keeps her braided hair away from her face. Clark looks trapped somewhere between confused and upset. 

“Never took you for this type of antics, Roni.” Her arm goes around her head-rest. “But looks like you’ve been keeping all sorts of things from me.” 

“Jesus, Jamilah.” She says under her breath, suddenly feeling warmth creeping over her neck. “This is Clark. The owner of this car.” 

“Nice to meet you, Clark.” Jamilah extends her prosthetic hand for her to shake. “And I’m sure that’s all that you are. The owner of this car.” 

“I’m..I’m her neighbor.” She replies dumbfounded, not being able to take her eyes off Jamilah’s hand. Roni clears her throat as unsubtle as possible until Clark decides that the steering wheel is far more interesting. 

“And a good one, I bet.” There is no doubt as to what she means.

“Did you really come in to give us the third degree?” Roni glares at her through the rearview mirror. 

“Nah. Came in because it’s obvious you’re up to something,” Jamilah says lying back. “And you need all the help you can get if you’re staking out a graveyard.” 

“A graveyard?” Clark turns to face. “Doesn’t look like one.” 

“Belfry bought it out. Made look like a private garden.” 

“Of course she did.” Roni mumbles. 

“What’s she doing there?” 

“What else would you do at a graveyard?,” Jamilah’s expression suddenly turns serious. “She lost a daughter a while back. That’s where she’s buried.” 

“Wait, a daughter besides Ivy?” Roni furrows her brow. “Jacinda’s never mentioned her.” 

“Probably because Belfry blames Jacinda for her death.” 

“How do you know all this?” Clark is inspecting her and Jamilah picks up on it. 

“Word gets around down at the docks.” She smirks and Roni knows she’s zeroed onto Clark’s weakness. “Guess you just weren’t turning the right stones.” 

It works, makes Clark clench her jaw and turn back around. 

“You ask me, you’re tailing the wrong Belfry. If you’re looking for dirt that is.” 

“Yeah, why?” Roni asks while Clark just listens. Swallowing back her words. 

“Victoria Belfry has too many eyes looking out for her,” She pauses to moisten her lips. “But she doesn’t even spare a pair for Ivy. I don’t think she even suspects that girl is hiding something.” 

“And do_ you _ know what she’s hiding?” 

“Whatever fits in a shipping container.” Jamilah drums her fingers on Roni’s seat as she weighs her words. “I haven’t bothered looking into it but I could...forget my keys on the office door again. Not my business what you find up there.” 

“You’d help us with that?” Clark yields just a bit, her voice gives it away. El machete desenvainado. 

“Should have come to me in the first place.” She slaps Clark’s shoulder. “Everyone knows that dirt always ends up washing up at the shore.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Espere por ti pero vinieron por mi" was a one phrase poem that was painted onto a wall where I lived and it's always stayed with me. Credit where credit is due. The song Regina hates is Video Killed the Radio Star. 
> 
> When I was coming up with this story I knew I didn't want to write police in a community that has been marginalized and I definitely knew didn't want to write Hook/Rogers because of what it would to do Emma and it would add a complication that story does NOT need.
> 
> So Jamilah :)


	6. Magic and Carbonite

Hunraqan, Corazón de Cielo. The god who destroyed the wooden men in a deluge that covered the whole Earth. Not her god, not her father’s. A story contained in the book of the feathered serpent. When her tongue struggled with the words on the page Regina had for a moment wondered what would move a god to destroy his creation. She thinks of it now running on the shores of Storybrooke, every rock and twig here because of her dark curse. One she had almost destroyed. The tide comes closer. She can’t help but think that water would have swallowed this place, sunk it. Regina breathes out and quickens her pace. The briskness of the air helps her organize her thoughts. Bring them back to Henry. Running makes finding him feel possible. Each step becomes another point in a map that keeps growing larger and larger. Her expanding lungs give her an idea of just how long the right incantation would have to be. How much of her breath it would take. 

With Hook gone she can catch her breath at the docks, sit at a bench she’d claimed for her and Emma. They always found themselves here when they needed to talk, when they needed time to feel still again. Regina never quite understood why. It could be that the water drowned out everything else. Here it hadn’t been in question that they would get their son back. Here it was that Emma’s eyes had gone dark and her words sliced her open. _ I know you don’t. _Here she had made Emma promise, so far apart that not even their fingers brushed, that if it came to do that she’d take her life. And Emma had promised in return that it would never come to that. She wouldn’t let it. There are too many things she wishes for. 

“You were always going to hurt like this,” She says to the water . “One way or another.” 

Regina is glad she leaves her phone behind for these runs, or else she’d call Emma while catching breath. Get closer to a breaking point she feels coming, finally ask too much of her. And Regina is not ready to lose her like that. So completely. Not when she is addicted to her voice finding her way back to her. Not when they can still talk like nothing has changed.Regina will tell her about her map, about the spells. About Henry and needing to hear him just once. When the time comes and she is sure her voice won’t break and give her away. When she is certain she won’t be forcing Emma’s hand, when it won’t hang from her neck like a weight. When it stops hurting. 

This should be the last time she catches her breath by the water Regina decides.

* * *

“Shhh..” Roni whispers harshly as they go up the metal stairs

“I didn’t say anything.” Clark murmurs back

“Not you. Your steps are too loud,” Roni holds onto the railing and tries to not look down. She can’t figure out how Jamilah goes up this damn thing every day. “Like a whole squad of stormtroopers is closing in on me.” 

“There isn’t even anyone around this place. The guard is _ napping. _” 

“Yeah. And you’ll wake him, buckethead.” 

“Buckethead?” 

“Shhh!” 

The office must be some four stories up. It’s made out of old containers, painted blue to make look like the company actually gives a damn. Jamilah’s keys are easy to spot on the door, the keychain shaped like an anchor. Roni hurries up the last couple of steps and lets herself inside. Clark doesn’t move to switch on the lights and instead lights up her phone and keeps it low. Gives Roni a smug look to remind her that she does know what she’s doing. 

“So what are we looking for?” 

“Records,” Clark finds a chair and powers up the computer. “Jamilah mention what name Ivy is working under?” 

“No,” Roni closes the blinds and leans against the desk. “Guess she figured it was better not knowing. Can’t be too careful with these type of people.” 

“But she knows enough to tip us off.” She mutters as she opens every file she can find. Clark stretches her neck from side to another.

“Do you have a problem with Jamilah?” Roni asks not wanting to think of the implications of it. Any of them. 

“No,” Her fingers give the keyboard a rest and turns to look at Roni. The green of her eyes looks paler against the white of the monitor. “I just don’t think she likes me much.” 

“That’s it?” Roni scoffs. “You don’t trust her because you think she doesn’t like you?” 

“I never said that.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

Clark sighs and sets her hands on her lap. “This whole thing...it’s complicated. You never know who..”

“Except I do. Jamilah is my oldest friend.” Roni cuts her off and decides to ignore the betrayed look on her face. “This isn’t a trap. You ask me to trust you all the time. It’s time you trust me.” 

“That’s...yeah. I’m sorry,” She presses her lips together. “You’re right” 

“I know I am.” Roni bumps her knee against the chair. “And for what’s worth. I’m the one who pissed her off.” 

“Oh?” 

“She took it a little too personally that I didn’t tell her about you.” She’s grateful the office is dark enough to hide her. “Though I’m pretty sure you_ staring _at her hand didn’t help.” 

Clark’s expression turns unreadable, like she doesn’t know what to make of her. With a nod she turns her attention back to the screen.

“We should check the security cameras for any sign of movement.” 

Roni finds another monitor and turns it onto a screen split six ways. It’s dead down there, nothing moving in the rows of containers. She doesn’t understand what is that shifts Clark’s moods, just that these changes come and go. Like a pendulum. For now all she can do is wait until the air is less charged as she keeps her eye on the screen. 

“Find anything?” She asks trying to keep her exasperation from her voice. 

“Ivy is just as good as her mother cleaning up after herself.” Clark replies getting to her feet. “No records for a single container. No personal names. Nothing.” 

“Fuck,” Roni runs a hand through her hair. “I’m so tired of these dead ends. I’m tired of walking around in the dark and feeling like we’re being outsmarted at every turn.” 

“I know. I am too.” Her voice is quiet as she lays a hand on her shoulder. Too brief to call it anything. Still something lingers, a spark. 

“And it's not like we’re any closer at finding your mystery person either.” 

Clark smiles weakly when Roni’s gaze finds hers. She’s about to say something when her eyes grow wider. They have something, she can tell. Roni turns her eyes back to the security cameras and sees a familiar figure moving around in the bottom left corner. Blazer thrown over a skirt and the unmistakable air of a Belfry. Walking with purpose and unafraid, she’s been here before. 

“Finally.” 

“Come on, come on. “ Clark says more to herself. “Show us something.” 

There isn’t a misstep on Ivy’s part. Roni watches her take a left and reappear in the middle of the screen. Left then straight. Pass the container numbered 1-488-BH, she has to make sure she has this down for later. Her pulse is racing up her throat and reaches her ears when Clark squeezes her wrist. It feels like red would. The whole room might take that color soon if her hand stays on Roni’s skin. But Ivy makes another left turn and looks directly at the camera and blinks twice. Every screen turns to static and with a pop the monitor goes black.

“What the fuck was that?!” Roni stumbles backwards into Clark.

“I don’t know.” She says lowly as she steadies her with careful hands. 

A spark runs down her back threatening to undo Roni. The seams of her under Clark’s fingertips. 

* * *

“Bloody dreadful day to be outside.” Zelena says shielding her eyes from the sun. 

“It’s sixty degrees out.” Regina replies kicking off her heels to feel the blanket under her feet. It’s warmer than usual and she was glad to use it as an excuse to escape the house for the day. 

“Robyn come show mama what is it that you’ve got!” Her sister calls out at her toddler who seems to have found a pile of leaves. “Please don’t let it be anything that has got a pulse.” 

Robyn grins before making her way back to the safety of the blanket and lays out her treasures in front of them. 

“A shell and five bottle caps. Very good, tesoro.” Regina says inspecting them with utmost care. “Though I see we need stricter policies on littering in this town.” 

“Yours, auntie Regina.” Her niece says proudly. 

“Why thank you.” She returns with the formal tone she used when Henry brought her flowers from the garden. 

“Time for your juice box, sprout.” Zelena says in that tender voice that Regina has grown accustomed to. 

Robyn eagerly takes it and she settles between her mother’s legs. 

“So, how is everything?” Regina asks leaning back against her elbows. 

“I’ve figured out this whole internet thing,” Her proud expression is not unlike Robyn’s. “Did you know there is a whole marketplace for witchcraft?” 

“Yes. I’m scared to ask what you’ve found there.” 

“Gullible idiots mostly,” She smoothes out Robyn’s hair with a smile on her face. “Who will pay for any sort of knowledge.” 

“Oh God.” 

“You’re the one who said I should find a job within my skill set. And this has flexible hours.” 

“That tends to be the case when it’s not an actual job.” 

Zelena huffs and rolls her eyes. “Say that to the eight hundred dollars in my Paypal.” 

“Eight hundred?!” Regina says sitting up because three weeks ago her sister was battling some fifty tabs on her web browser. “_ Zelena _.” 

“If they’re daft enough to pay for what is basic herbology then they deserve to lose their money.” Her sister digs up her phone out her bag and starts scrolling through what appears to be an inbox.“You wouldn’t believe the kind of questions I get. ‘ What herbs should I use for a true love spell?’” 

Regina scoffs. “Any five year old would know there is no such thing.” 

“Ah. But _ they _ don’t know that. Twenty five dollars for rum-soaked horse radish and ginger.” 

“You didn’t.” Regina hears herself laughing, realizing how foreign it sounds to her.

“Got anything to make a woman to submit?” Zelena does her worst to imitate the voice of man.

“As if any witch would be stupid enough to come up with such a thing.” 

“I prescribed a warm brew of senna and licorice roots. Because I’m a professional.” 

Regina bursts out laughing, in different times they might have been accused of cackling over the pain of the innocent. All because her sister prescribed laxatives to some jackass over the internet. Robyn piles up on top of her and does her best to imitate her. It keeps the smile on her face, makes her think of Henry. When he was that age and easy to make giggle with a raspberry to his arm. It makes an echo of her laugh within the empty space in her. She turns to look at Zelena who has a look she can’t quite place, one she has never seen before. Measured. 

“It’s nice to…” 

Regina’s phone buzzes in her pocket. She kisses Robyn’s forehead before easing her onto the ground and takes deep breath before checking her screen. 

“I have to take this.” It’s impossible to miss the change in Zelena’s expression then.The way her eyes have narrowed as they watch her stand up. 

“Hey.” Regina says when she is at a safe distance away. 

“Hey.” Emma returns. “I’m not interrupting anything am I?” 

“No.” She is quick to assure her. “Just a day out with Robyn and Zelena. She thought I could use some air.” 

“Good, that’s good.” Her voice is stilted, she sounds like she does whenever she stuffs her hands in her pockets. “How is she?” 

“She has taken to scamming people on the internet.” Regina offers to keep her for longer. 

“Zelena? The same person who once called the station over spam?” Emma’s laugh is brewing and it returns the smile to her face. 

“Given the right motivation I’m sure my sister can accomplish just about anything.” 

“Crime will do that.” She snorts. “How is she pulling it off?” 

“Fake magical advice, apparently. I don’t know too many details.” 

“Do you know the website?” Emma asks after a beat. 

“Why? Are you in need of magical advice?” Regina teases because whatever bubble she has inflated for herself today just keeps growing bigger and bigger. “You could ask me. Free of charge.” 

“And miss a priceless opportunity to mess with Zelena?” Her laugh is so clear that Regina lets it fool her for a moment. “I’m gonna ask her if she knows the Wicked Witch of the West.” 

“That might be too on the nose.” 

“Do you honestly think she’s the only Wicked Witch out there?” 

“I hope so,” She glances at her sister who is now chasing her daughter around a tree. “Why? Have you run into any doppelgangers lately?” 

“No,” Emma replies as if the question had been a serious one. “But maybe there are other versions of people out there. Of us.” 

Regina takes a second to breathe and wrap an arm around her waist. The question moves through afternoon air, through, whatever waves let them speak to each other. The question if she has ever wondered if there other versions of herself that are happy, if there is a version of them that belong together. The sting of tears y el nudo en la garganta speak for themselves into silence. A prick away from bursting her bubble. 

“There’s only one of you, Your Majesty. That much I know.” Emma continues because there are times she cannot bear Regina’s silences. 

“I think that goes both ways, Sheriff.” She wipes at her eyes for once being glad they aren’t face to face. 

“Auntie! Help!” Robyn squeals crashing into her knees. “Save me from mama!”

“Sounds like you gotta go.” She tells her softly. 

“_ Robyn Mills _!” Zelena follows closely behind.

“That is what it sounds like, yes.” Regina lifts her niece’s chin, discovering muddy handprints on her pants. “Bye.”

“Running after this one ought to be a sport.” Her sister exhales as she kneels to clean Robyn’s hands. “The legs on you, pea-shoot.”

“One day Imma live in the forest.” Robyn informs her.

“At this rate it’s more likely the forest will live with you.” Regina says removing a crushed leaf from her hair. 

“Have mercy. Come on now, let’s...” Zelena gathers her daughter into her arms and stops to look at her. “What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing.” She smiles for good measure. 

“That was the Savior on the phone, wasn’t it?” 

“Emma!” Robyn echoes. 

“It wasn’t…”

“Don’t try to deny it,” Zelena turns harsh. “You’ve got this melancholic look about you whenever you’ve spoken to her.” 

“You knew?” Regina puffs her chest because she needs to stand taller. 

“Of course I knew! You’re a dreadful liar when it comes to her. Her sister clears her throat and shifts Robyn in her arms. “How long are you going to hold onto her? Regina, she _ left. _”

Her hands become fists as her chest goes tight, Regina feels sparks forming at the tips of her fingers. 

“I’m not talking about this.” She decides walking away is the most sensible option. Before she says something she means but will regret 

“Are you ever going to? This is going to tear you apart.” Zelena voice only turns sharper. 

Perhaps if there had been gin and wine involved they could have been considerate with each other, laugh until they’ve fallen asleep. But it’s broad daylight in a warm day in Autumn and the skin under her eyes is dry with salt. 

“I survived that once, didn’t I?” Regina says over her shoulder as she stalks away from her sister. 

* * *

Roni uncaps a bottle, the kind that doesn’t come with an import tax. She can’t afford to drink her own product but one bottle won’t set her back. She picks at the tortilla chips she’s set out on the bar, careful to load it up with chimol. It’s a normal thing to do, a night like all the others in Hyperion Heights. Like they used to be, anyway. The beer is bitter on her lips and she shakes her head at what she’s hearing. 

“Are you seriously telling me that _ you _ would not go back for Han? Or your Han equivalent person? ” Henry asks stealing from her chips and following suit with the chips. He’s got her cornered and he knows it, judging by the smug look in his eyes. “Even if it was the stupid thing to do?”

“She’s the leader of the rebellion…” Roni furrows her brow and dodges what he’s actually throwing at her. _ Your Worship. _

“_ A _ leader. There are ranks, the alliance has a military structure.” He moves his head from side to side and Roni scoffs. “She can afford to break Han out of carbonite.”

“My original point was that the whole thing was a ploy to get her into that metal bikini.” 

“True.” He concedes with a smile. “Cheap writing trick. I should know them.” 

Roni leans against the bar and rolls her eyes. She won’t stand for this. 

“What?”

“Self-deprecation isn’t a good look on you,” She tells him sternly. “Don’t get me wrong, men could use more of it. But not you.” 

“You sound like Jacinda.” Henry takes a swig from his beer and smiles. “And Sabine. They say I just need to find my spark. Like they did with the food truck” 

“That’s a polite way of saying someone needs to light a fire under your ass.” 

“I think Lucy’s got that covered.” 

Roni laughs and thinks she feels a color tinting the room. It’s missing something, like it’s bouncing from one corner of her to another. She smiles because there is nothing else to do when Henry is picking up on the quiet. 

“You’ll figure it out, Mills.” Roni cleans the stray pieces of onion and tomato off the counter to avoid his eyes. “Plus, there’s the internet nowadays.” 

“Yes. I hear you can hook up your computer to your landline to surf the web.” 

She tosses her dirty rag right in his face because she is barely older than him. Roni couldn’t even call him cipote in earnest. 

“What I mean,_ smartass _, is that you have options.” 

“Funny you should say that, actually.” Henry has that shine to his eyes that people get after a beer. “I need your opinion on something that may be that spark.” 

“But I’m not a writer.” Roni can’t explain a gentle warmth spreading through her chest.

“Which makes you perfect.”He chuckles taking in her expression. “I’m thinking about starting a podcast. About the neighborhood.” 

She gives him a look and bites her tongue before she shoots him down.

“I know what that sounds like. But it wouldn’t be like a one-white-man show.” 

“OK.” Roni says tentatively

“ And I know that you’re already working on some super secret plan to bring Belfry down.” Now he gives her a look when she gapes at him.

“How did you...?” 

“Lucy’s a smart kid who can’t keep a secret.” He shrugs and she wishes she could explain the bout of affection she feels for him. “That and you and your mysterious heroic neighbor spend an awful lot of time together.” 

“You were saying?” She fixes a glare that has no effect on him. 

“While I’m all for covert operations to take down gentrifiers, I’d like the word to get out there about Hyperion Heights. Stop Mumford and Sons from moving in next door.” Henry knows he’s got her. “Let everyone know who this place belongs to.” 

“What sort of thing do you have in mind?”

“Don’t know yet. Have a different person with me on each episode talking about about life here. The good, the bad. The magic of it, maybe. What do you think?” 

“I don’t know about this place having any sort of magic,” Roni tells him despite seeing colors grow and wrap themselves around her every day. “But it’s a great idea.” 

“Cool.” He looks like he can’t contain himself much longer. “So now you wanna fill me in on your super secret plan or is that just a couple’s activity?”

“Ugh.” Roni snatches his beer away from him in one swift move. 

“Hey!”

The door opens and Roni is about call it excellent timing until she realizes it’s Clark walking towards the bar. 

“Not a word, Mills.” It’s a useless warning. 

He locks his fingers together and eagerly waits for Clark to reach the bar. Roni notices the way she clenches her fists and how her chest rises unevenly. It’s how she gets around Henry when there is no danger to confront, like a wounded animal. Clark hesitantly slides onto the stool next to Henry and nods with that fragile smile of hers. 

“How did it go?” Roni asks, thinking it a mercy. 

“It didn’t.” Clark replies warily. “They were a no show.” 

“He knows.” She says returning Henry’s beer and uncapping one for Clark. 

Henry laughs and slides over the chips to her. “A certain ten year old cracked your plan.” 

Roni watches her. The way she only takes what she has been offered and keeps her eye on the bottle. People get that look sometimes, a soul tearing look.

“Ten year olds tend to do that.” Clark takes a swig from the bottle and sighs. “I’m closing in on the container’s number but I’m sure there’s more to it than that.” 

“Sounds exciting.” Henry pipes in and it’s not just the beer that makes him sound curious.

“It’s not.” Roni replies leaning back against her work station. “Sitting around waiting for something to happen.” She omits the busted monitor and Ivy’s calculated gaze at the camera. Can’t talk about something she doesn’t understand, can’t explain. “Nothing ever does.” 

“Your m--,” Her lips almost piece themselves together beyond that smile but Clark catches herself. Like she’s slipped. “Friend here just doesn’t have the patience for this type of work.” 

Roni scoffs and crosses her arms. She isn’t about to lose another stupid argument tonight. 

“Help me out Mills. If this were one of your stories, would we have solved this by now?” 

“I,” Henry stammers as Clark practically chugs her beer. “Don’t really..” 

“No self-deprecation, remember?” 

“It depends,” He gives with a shrug. “How did you see this going?” 

“Besides Belfry rotting in jail.” Clark adds signaling that she wants another. 

It’s her second one, she’s seen her do worse. But her gut twists as Roni as she hears the faint pop of the bottle and hands it to her. Does her best to ignore that knot inside her. 

“I don’t know.” Her own admission surprises her. Roni hadn’t thought of what would happen with Belfry gone. The people who have left wouldn’t come back, things wouldn’t be set right again. “Guess I figured that’d be enough.” 

“Enough for happy ending,” Henry pops another chip into his mouth. “Ish.” 

“Ish? What are you thinking?” Roni prods him.

Clark’s focus seems to be the label on the bottle, picking away at it.

“You know like in _ Jedi _ when they blow up the second Death Star…” 

“And we’re back to this.” 

“Star Wars?” At that Clark looks up, her eyes wandering from Roni to Henry. “That’s what you were talking about before I came in?” 

“More or less.” He says turning to her like he’s welcoming her into whatever club he thinks they’ve formed. “You’re a fan?” 

“Course I am, kid.” 

_Your Worship. 207-248-3663._ Of course she is. 

Henry gazes at Roni knowingly. She feels a chill cut through her spine until she remembers this is a secret. Not hers but one she keeps anyway. 

“Better buckle up then.” 

“I’m gonna break out the liquor if I have to sit through _ wrong _opinions again.” 

Roni moves to find what could only pass as guaro and sets out on the counter. Made of blackberries and been in the basement for far too long. She pours some for herself, to excuse her judgement. It’s strong but it’s what she needs tonight. Because Clark is smiling with purple lips, because her gaze lingers on her. Because the bar deserted and Moscas en La Casa is lowly echoing throughout the place. Roni knows she would resent whoever walked in through that door. Because her laughs are coming deep from her belly, because she’s warm all over. A bubble, that’s what it is. With two people she’s known for so little.

“Right, so. Excuse me,” Henry’s hiccups cut through his thoughts. “That’s the point of the new movies…”

“OK.” Clark replies as engaged as she’s ever seen her. 

“Can’t really vanquish evil. Whatever ending you got isn’t really the end.” 

“That’s actually...right.” Roni mumbles. She’s pulled a stool behind the bar and sits between them both. 

“You sound surprised?” The confusion and betrayal comes from Clark instead of Henry. 

“We’ve had some minor disagreements.” Henry whispers to her. 

“He thinks Vader should be forgiven.” She says pouring the last of the blackberry guaro into a shot glass. “Same goes for..for..whatever his name is. The one without the shirt,” 

“I just think everyone deserves a second shot. Sue me” He stretches out his arms and giggle escapes. Like he’s eight and trying to sound like a grown man. 

“And you don’t,” Clark rests her hand on her chin and looks at her with sleepy eyes. “Roni?” 

She shrugs her shoulders, suddenly feeling the liquor hitting her. Straight in the head, makes her name sound wrong to her. Roni. Roni. She shakes her head and fixes her eyes on the clock over the door. Ten past midnight. 

“It didn’t feel earned. Doesn’t.” When she finally speaks her words sound like they belong to her again,. 

“I’ll give you that.” Henry holding onto his glass like it’s keeping him from slipping. “Not enough material for it to hit home. Don’t think Lucas knew where he was going with the story.” 

“Brother and sister kissed so, probably. Not.” Clark laughs into her hand. 

“Can’t say I’m better than that. And I know no self-pity tonight.” He slurs his words as he looks straight at her. “But also gotta be honest too. Was never really happy with where I went with my book.” 

Henry has crossed that line. Borrachera depresiva. Figures, kind men usually turn melt into messes with alcohol. Her old man was the same.

“Yeah. Why?” Clark shifts her entire body to face him and Roni’s gut knows to twist. 

“Because,” Henry’s breath is too heavy and too sweet. “The whole thing...It got too big and lost sight of what was important. My editor _ was _ shit, so guess it wasn’t entirely on me.” 

“What do..do..you mean? What was important?” Blonde hair falls on Clark’s face like a curtain.

“Started out with the hero of the story, Emma Swan, getting to a cursed town. Long lost son she gave up takes her there. Because she made wish to not be alone on her 28th birthday. And she meets her son’s mother, right?” A pang of pain shoots in the back of Roni’s head and she has no option but to shut her eyes. This Emma Swan looks like Clark, blonde hair and too kind eyes. “And then what? Ends up marrying a pirate who traded his ship for her?” 

“Henry…” Roni chastises him pressing her fingers against her closed eyes. She doesn’t know why but it feels like he should say no more. Stop while he can.

“I knew how the story wanted to go. I always did,” He is locked in his unwinding and Clark’s breathing grows more and more erratic. She can hear it. “Growing up in the system..I..I wanted a mom so badly, I found a way to give myself two. But didn’t have the courage to tie it together. Them together. And I lost Emma through the cracks. Her story..it just..it became my biggest disappointment. No wonder the book didn’t sell.” 

There’s a screech of wood against the floor and feet clumsily scrambling away. Roni opens her eyes to find a bewildered looking Henry and the bathroom door thrown open. She gets to her feet and feels how soft her body has gone. Still Roni has enough sense to fill a glass with soda water. 

“There’s instant coffee..somewhere...make some.” She tells him squeezing his shoulder. “Go to Jacinda’s and Sabine’s after, OK? I’ll take care of her.” 

Henry nods looking grim, trying to blink away the liquor. Roni wants to reassure him beyond the hand that wants to linger on his shoulder but she has to get to Clark. The room feels darker as she heads towards the bathroom. Her steps are unsure, the floor feels like it sinks under her. Clark is on her knees when she finds her, barely holding onto the toilet. Hair threatening to fall into the water. Roni kneels next to her and gathers her hair behind her neck. A bead or two of sweat runs down Clark’s forehead and her eyes are as brittle as she’s ever seen. Red with effort of keeping themselves together. She retches and then lies against the wall.

“Fuck. _ Fuck. _” Her voice is hoarse and burned.

“Drink.” Roni says guiding the glass to her lips. 

She gulps down half the water and throws her head back. Roni moves over to her side knowing the look of someone who is about to collapse. 

“I messed it all up...I..._everything_ _ _._” _Clark cries out in pain as she falls into Roni’s arms. 

They’re quiet cries, cries of someone who is practiced at hiding them. The light bulb flickers above them and Roni only knows to run her fingers through her hair. Clark sinks deeper into her, until her head is on her lap and they’re both splayed on the floor. 

“It’s OK.” Roni promises understanding only that Clark needs her. “It’ll be OK.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I am REALLY putting them to the ringer :(. I would like them to just...!! Get over themselves and get together already but !! I promise I'm building up to something


	7. Kukulcan y Gardel

She wishes it were with Summer, she could have fireflies for company then. It’s just Regina outside in the quiet of the night. Out with a map to the stars and the feathered serpent book spread out on the grass. It’s been decades since she attempted this kind of magic, harder than anything in her mother’s book. In Rumple’s lessons. It comes from a place away from anger, greed. Away from destruction. A different kind of strength is required. Regina feels like a child again with her bare feet on the green, listening to the wind. It isn’t certain that this will work, that her murmurs blending in with the night will reveal anything to her. But an ache had pulled her out of bed, it’d been a long a time that sorrow took out of her dreams. Deep and familiar. No better time than this to chart a map back to her son. 

“Henry Daniel Mills, Enrique Daniel.Hijico. Primogenito, hijo de amor y no de sangre. Hijo perdido pero no prodigo. Let me find you..” Regina whispers as she sets her eyes on Orion. Asks for forgiveness, for the languages she offers. Pleads the Hunter to find her son, find him if he can see him. Spread the word with the rest of the stars. Run across hemispheres and realms. 

The stars burn brighter, even those that are long gone. We promise, we promise they say. Ojos abiertos, Mi Señora. Que pronto lo encontramos. Regina keeps her head high feels her feet becoming roots on the ground. The taste of figs and salt water wash up in her mouth, her skin is warm as if it were under the Sun. Mangroves and swamps. Oropéndolas y lagartos. It takes Regina’s breath away that her son should be so far from her. To feel as distant as another galaxy. Her knees buckle as stars relay what is left of their message. Your son has tried to come home to you, Majestad. Each time he has stopped for a soul who needed his helping hand. Like his blood mother before him. She takes the book and lets her magic write the way to him. Words on the page rearrange themselves into a tree, whose branches spread across all its pages. 

Regina closes her eyes. Whispers her father’s prayer of thanks as she wishes more than fireflies were out here with her. 

* * *

“Carlos cerote.” Ronu mutters as her back threatens to give in as she showers. The springs of the old couch at Clark’s had dug into her spine. The water hits her lower back and she groans in relief. This is a two-day ache.

She’s too old for this kind of thing. For drinking until she couldn’t walk straight, for falling asleep with a woman’s head on her lap. Like they were girls after a night out, like she imagines they must have been like. Girls who hadn’t broken down in each other’s arms and cried about something they wouldn’t say. Roni barely remembers unlocking Clark’s door and crashing on the couch. She hadn’t asked her to stay but she’d held onto Roni anyway. To her waist. There was nothing Roni could have done. With the booze running through her fingers and Clark’s touch kindling the fire. Point of no return, that’s what it felt like it. Cuando todo se va a la mierda. When she can’t think of anything else but to get lost in her arms, let Clark bury her forehead on her shoulder. Feel her skin on hers. Outside of wounds and stitches. Forget about the sixes of the secret that doesn’t belong to her. 

It’s good that the water turns cold, Roni can’t afford to think about this. Ivy is still out there and there is so much that Clark doesn’t say. Saves up for another. She towel dries her hair and tries to move on. Get into the only clean clothes she has left and get her day started. She’ll check on Clark one last time and it will have to be the end of it for today. 

Her door is unlocked, one of these days Roni will have to tell her it isn’t safe. That she should know better. But not today. Clark sits at the edge of the couch, arms resting on her knees and her phone in her hand. Like she had been about to call whoever waits for her and tell them about last night. 207-248-3663. 

“Hey.” Clark puts the phone down. She’s tied her hair back and changed into a sweatshirt. One she’s worn more than a few times since she split open her skin. 

“How’s the hangover?” Roni stops short of sitting because she can’t stay. Won’t stay.

“Not too bad. Nothing fries can’t cure.” It sounds like an invitation. 

“Afif tosses in a basketful if you get the lamb shawarma.” She clears her throat. “It’s still early but he won’t mind having you.” 

“Right.” Clark looks away from her and bites her lips. Roni breathes in, ready to say that there are errands she needs to run. Supplies and books to keep. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have...I shouldn’t have put that on you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“I...” She sighs like she’s decided something. “I want to explain. If that’s OK?” 

Roni takes her in, the way she’s gazing at her. It feels like Clark has asked this of her before, like she’s seen that look on her. Somewhere. So long ago, maybe a lifetime ago. It’s impossible, she knows that. But Roni settles next to her with her heart in her throat. Her day be damned. 

“OK.” 

“I..uh..I.have a son.” Clark bounces her knee and keeps her eyes down. 

“Where is he now?” Roni thinks of the band that is slowly fading on her finger, that one that tells her Clark ran away from something. Someone.

“I gave him up for adoption. I...I was..eighteen and I wanted to give him his best chance.” Her voice is tight, stretch any more and it will tear. “And I did. He has the best mother I could have asked for.” 

She turns her eyes on Roni, piercing with yearning. For what she isn’t telling her. 

“His name is Henry Mills. Lives on the other side of the...the country.” 

It all clicks into place. _ I knew a Henry Mills. _The sullen look she gets around Henry, the broken glass and staggering out of the bar. Falling apart over a man who shares his name but not her son’s luck. A man who grew up without. Who poured everything he had into a book and still feels empty. 

“Must have graduated from school this summer.” Roni adds not knowing what to say. 

“Top of his class.” Clark says in a hush. “Sure as hell didn’t get those brains from me.” 

“He’s lucky that you did right by him. So many kids aren’t...” The knot in her throat gets tighter with each syllable. “ So fortunate.” 

“Hope he sees it that way.” It’s strangled, like the effort is killing her. “Just wish I could’ve been more. Really deserve him, you know?” 

“I think,” Roni says carefully. “You’re enough just as you are. I’m sure he knows that.”

Clark says nothing and lies back against the couch. Her shoulders slump and Roni needs to give her something in return. Something she keeps just as buried as Clark kept her son. 

“I ...I tried to adopt once,” Roni confesses quietly. “Or many times depending on how you look at it.”

“Roni…” She whispers her name like this is hers too. This hurt. 

“I almost had him. A baby boy.” She continues because there is still more to unearth “Enrique Daniel. Thought it was fate because he had my old man’s name. But then the agency. Don’t know. Guess they decided a bar owner wasn’t mom material.” 

“Fuck them.” It’s determined like she is going to find the people who denied her a son and beat them to a pulp. _ Fuck them for doing this to us, _ it’s what the shiver on Roni’s skin tells her wordlessly. 

“Maybe it was for the best.” Roni shrugs because it’s been a while since she’s counted the broken pieces of her. “Maybe I wasn’t his best chance.” 

Suddenly Clark is taking her hand in hers and she can’t breathe. Because the green of her eyes burns brighter and her brow is furrowed. Because their fingers are locked together. She can’t breathe.

“Don’t say that.” Clark’s chest rises with intention and her grip on Roni’s hand never loosens. 

What did she do to deserve this kind of loyalty Roni wants to ask. This faith that tells her that the world has been wrong about her. Instead she presses her lips together, she’s afraid of what might happen if she doesn’t.. The air is charged, like a storm is about to break. It’s the wrong time for it, despite what her body tells her. There is too much to do to get caught in the rain and thunder like this. 

“I wasn’t kidding about Afif’s fries,” She says wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “We can split them.”

“Let me grab some cash.” Clark breathes out a smile. 

* * *

The tree looks like lighting on the pages. Regina carefully inspects each branch, her fingers searching for the place that had invaded her senses under the stars. Storybrooke had been easy to spot, a short and thin branch. Compared to the others it tastes like nothing, like unsalted bread. She supposes that’s what any sort place created by a curse would be like. A shadow of every other realm. Regina feels a pang of guilt watching people go about their day. How could this place be called lesser when whole lives are contained here? She marks the page and drinks from the coffee she’s allowed to get luke warm. Try and enjoy the chill of the afternoon at this new cafe next to Town Hall. Untold Stories & Rosquillas, the name had struck as trying to be too clever when she signed the permit. But it suits it fine with its mismatched chairs and whitewashed walls. 

“Can I offer you anything else Madam Mayor?” Clara, one of the owners of the place, asks her with a coffee pot in her hand. 

“I’m good for now, thank you.” 

“You change your mind just give us a shout.” She smiles just enough to be considered polite and moves to the next table. 

Regina wonders if Clara is only making the best she can out of this situation. If this sliver of magic carved at the side of another world is enough for her, if it’s truly better than The Land of Untold Stories. She has felt it under the tip of her fingers drawn on the tree in her book. The roots, thick and earthy on her tongue. Regina has felt the outside world too, flavors too muddled to call it any one thing. But still so much more than Storybrooke, more than she could have created. That’s where Emma is. She wants to tell her about the figs she’d tasted, about stars finding their son. How he takes after her. Regina unlocks her phone and dials without thinking. Three or two rings is all it takes for Emma to answer.

“Is this my reminder to vote Mills in the upcoming elections?” Regina now remembers how easy Emma makes it to forget that she left at all. 

“Are you planning to vote for Sister Corinthia instead?” 

“I got a personalized email from her. So, maybe.” It’s light and effortless, like neither of them is pretending. 

“It’s concerning that faery propaganda works so well on you.”

“Shouldn’t law enforcement be banned from voting anyway?” 

“You’re just saying that because you hate getting down to the polling station.” She watches a couple settle at the other end of the place. Smiling as they remove their scarves. “Not because you’re concerned about the ethics of it.” 

“It can be both.” Emma laughs and that cuts the smallest of wounds in her.

Regina wants to ask her if she plans on being here when the polls close. If she’ll be back then. Because there are things she wants to tell her, things she should know. But hearing her like this means she can’t say a word of her tree. Of Henry and the stars. Not when it will weigh on her like Regina would never want. 

“This reeks of subversion.” She continues this farce for both their sakes. “You can’t be trusted.” 

“Me?” It falls on her ears like a feather. “It’s Marco you gotta worry about. He plots between wood carvings and dinner.” 

A laugh that she doesn’t mean comes from her. The small wound that had been cut open widens when it’s clear that Emma can’t spot the lie. When they can talk without saying anything at all. 

* * *

It’s colder out tonight. It’s the water that chills the air, the denim of her jacket is too thin for a night like this. Too thin to be so close to Clark, matching her pace to hers. The lighting is shit at the docks and that at least means Roni’s face obscured.There is no way to see her breath being caught or the heat creeping up her neck and cheeks. Colorada como quinceanera. It’s not just the new colors that come and go, it’s the pulse in her ears. Blood rushing all through her body. It isn’t a surprise to Roni, like a Summer storm isn’t a surprise. Lighting and thunder. 

“You made sure the cameras aren’t recording, right?” Roni asks to distract herself from her thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Clark counts her steps as they round a corner. “Gotta make sure we turn them back on after though.” 

“What do you think is in there?” 

“Honestly?” She pauses in between a row of containers. “There’s nothing Ivy could be hiding that’d shock me.” 

“What? Like body parts?” 

“No,” There’s what could pass as a snicker like Roni is supposed to understand the joke. “Nothing like that.” 

Something has shifted since that morning when secrets just poured out. It’s easier to get answers from Clark even if there are things she won’t say. She wants more and Roni hates herself for it. For the greed she feels. A cold rush of wind sobers her up and reminds her that they are meant to find Ivy’s container. The one they have worked so hard to pin down. Hours of black and white footage and too many pages of records. 

“533, right?” Roni says spotting the number on a container ahead of them. 

“Here goes nothing, I guess.”

It should feel bigger than just walking a few more feet, more than a rusty metal box down at the docks. But it’s all it is with a padlock keeping them out. 

“I got this.” Clark produces a pick from her back pocket. 

“Can you even use that?” 

“Used to be a car thief. I think I can handle it.” She mutters as she takes the lock in her hand.

“You used to be a _ what _?” It’s shock that has Roni hissing out the question.

“We can talk about that later.” Clark bites the tip of her tongue as she works the lock. Soon enough there is the distinct click of success.“Ha!” 

“Shut up and open the damn thing.” 

There are some more words said under her breath but Clark open the container. Roni can see it now, the care that only a former thief would know. The look over her shoulder and nimble fingers that know how to avoid sound. Fingers that close around her wrist as Clark pulls her inside. It’s pitch black inside but they take two steps in and fluorescent lights flicker on. 

“What the hell is this place?” 

The walls are covered in plastic and dozens of metal boxes are piled up against them. All numbered with some sort of code and symbols Roni doesn’t recognize. The kind of thing she’d expect on a midnight special on cults and witchcraft back when she was a teenager. Roni suddenly remembers the way Ivy had looked into the camera like she knew they were watching. How the monitor had turned black in the blink of an eye. Like magic. The kind that only exists in books she never gets around to reading. Nothing like brujeria or santeria that live out in the open. But the thought is _ ridiculous. _

“Ivy seems to have the whole creepy-kill-room vibe down.” Clark lifts the a flap of one of the boxes with the end of her jacket. “But being into weird shit isn’t necessarily incriminating.” 

“She keeps it under lock and key for a reason.” Roni keeps walking inspecting every label, thinking she might be able to pick a pattern. For a second the gibberish on a label reads _ poisons _ but turns back to nonsense when she reads it again. 

“Don’t really have the luxury to search through every thing. There’s gotta be something big she’s protecting.” 

The heel of Roni’s boot gets caught as she nears the end of the container. It’s a handle sticking out from the metal of the floor. 

“Something worth hiding inside a safe?” 

It’s hard to keep her chest from swelling when Clark looks at her like _ that. _With so much weight behind the smile she gives her. They both crouch down to inspect the safe, it’s been perfectly fitted into the space. There isn’t even an inch of air separating it from the metal of the container. 

“Think anyone knows about Ivy drilling into the concrete?” She asks Roni stopping short of touching the keypad on it. 

“No. Too risky.” Her mind goes to Jamilah, there is no way anyone knows. No one working the docks has any idea, Roni is sure of that. “How are we supposed to open this?”

Clark stretches the sleeves of her shirt to cover her thumb and keys a sequence of numbers. The small screen only marks ERRR in flashing red letters. 

“You’d have better luck picking it.” Roni huffs. 

She fails again and hangs her head. “Something tells me this a three attempts kind of deal.” 

“Then let’s leave it and focus on…” 

_ 9-3-7-2 _The screen goes green as as the safe loudly unlocks for Clark. Roni knows she’s gawking at her, dumbfounded. 

“What? I’m good at stalking people for a living.” There isn’t even an effort at hiding how smug she fucking is as she pulls down the handle.. 

Roni’s heart doesn’t even have time to race at the thought of what they could be finding there. It’s empty except for a black USB drive. 

“That’s it?” 

“It’s better than I expected, actually.” Clark says taking it without a second thought. 

“What are you doing? We can’t just take it.” Roni tells her grabbing her by the wrist. “Ivy will know it’s gone.” 

“I’ll return it before she finds out,” The confidence in her voice does nothing but worry her. It can’t be this easy. “I’ll copy whatever she has saved and bring it back. No big deal.” 

“I don’t know about this.”

“Hey, we didn’t come this far to not take it. This is our one shot.” Clark slips her hand away from her wrist and secures the drive in her pocket. 

Roni breathes in and tries to believe this is the right move. That this won’t end in disaster or with another Belfry out for her neck. 

  
  


It’s Clark’s hand helping her up that sells her on the illusion. 

* * *

It’s Friday evening again. Time has taken a strange quality these days, seconds last longer than she wants them to but days are gone in the blink of an eye. Regina thinks it might be a consequence of talking to the stars, of the etching of the tree under her fingers. The taste of other worlds. Whatever the reason her days have been quiet and empty. Her own name sounds foreign to her, not having heard it in days. Regina has been alone with the echo of her secrets wherever she goes. Zelena had been right as much as it pains her to accept it . Her seams are coming undone, the ones she had so carefully put together again. Descoturando, the word travels down her spine like a blade. 

More black pepper goes into the beef stew as the timer for her roast potatoes goes off. As far as peace offerings this might be too subtle for her sister’s standards but she will try all the same. Regina carefully fixes a tray with all the food and tuck her feathered serpent book at a corner. It isn’t a night for driving, she doesn’t have the presence of mind for it. Instead she pictures the pine trees that surround the farmhouse and takes herself there. 

“Mama, Auntie Regina is here!” Robyn announces as she blinks herself to Regina’s side. Her bursts of magic are becoming more frequent and unpredictable.

“Careful, tesoro.” She warns her niece who is trying to tangle herself around her legs. 

“What you bring? My favorite?” 

“You’ll have to wait and find out.” 

Zelena watches them behind the screen of the door. Arms crossed and scowl on her face. 

“What’s this?” Her sister asks once she has reached the front steps.

“I brought you dinner.” Regina says without softening her voice. 

“We’ve already had dinner.” Zelena doesn’t budge an inch.

“Uh, nah ah.” Robyn pulls at Regina’s skirt. 

“_ Robyn.” _Her eyes narrow but all it does is make her niece giggle. “Fine. I suppose we could eat.” 

Zelena’s red hair is tied back and her cardigan is rolled up her sleeves. If she had been attempting to cook then Regina might be more welcomed than she lets on. A loaf of bread and some dull looking ham are sitting on the counter when she sets the tray down. Tea and some sort of sandwiches. Pan sin sal, she muses. Her sister sets the table with the distaste of someone who had been accustomed to snapping her fingers to make things happen. 

“Mama, wash my hands please.” Robyn says throwing her arms up for her mother to lift her. 

“Still need your old mum for some things, I see.” Zelena takes her in her arms and lets Robyn wash her hands at the sink. Regina can tell that she is holding back all her stories and complaints to return the favor. 

“Let’s eat then.” Her tone leaves no doubt what she means, eat to get this over with. Regina supposes she deserves it. 

“Before it gets cold.” 

They leave Robyn to fill the silence between them with the smallest of details. Leaves, rocks and water droplets. Regina ponders on the right words to say to her sister, how to admit Zelena was right. Tell her about all she has done, what she still plans to do. It doesn’t get easier with each bite of food. 

“I’m sorry.” There is no better to say as Robyn runs off to play in the living room. 

“No. You’re not,” Zelena rolls her eyes and gets the kettle going. You want to talk, there’s a difference.” 

“Zelena…” Regina turns so that she can face her sister. “Please. I need your help.” 

A sigh her sister makes long and suffering comes as a sort of answer. “And you’re certain it’s me you want for this?” 

“Oh for the love of God,_ yes. _” 

A bitterness has always tainted conversations like this one. When her sister demands a clear line to be drawn in the sand, one that determines who belongs to Regina and who doesn’t. _ She dragged you to hell _. She knows that feeling well, wanting someone to be hers and only hers. It’s hard to resent her when just a few years ago Regina had been guilty of the very same thing. 

“Talk.” Zelena orders as the tea steeps in their cups. 

Her eyes wander to Robyn who is busy building a castle around herself. Regina feels her smile vanish as soon as it came. 

“I miss my son. I knew it was going to be break my heart but I didn’t imagine...I didn’t think…” Regina takes a sip of her tea. Mint and honey, enough to give her composure. “I didn’t think I’d be missing her too. Not like this.” 

Zelena says nothing, she isn’t prone to comfort like Snow. It’s what she needs, no words of sympathy. No pity. 

“I’ve been working on a way to contact Henry. To see him again,” She continues as her heart beats faster at the thought. “And I’ve found him.” 

“How?” The blue of her eyes seems to jump with the question. “There are no windows to other realms. You couldn’t have.” 

Regina untucks her book from the tray and opens it to the first page. Where the roots go deep and where the realms taste like rock. Zelena takes it and wordlessly traces the outline of it. WIth her mouth open she goes from page to page, probably intoxicated with magic within her reach again. 

“This is like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” Zelena presses the palm of her hand against a branch. “They would have killed in Oz to have something like this.” 

“It’s from the old land. A mix of many things.” Regina takes the book and finds the page she needs. “This is his realm in the corner.” 

“That’s far away from here.” Her sister thumbs the pages that separate Storybrooke from Henry’s realm. “Farther than any of our worlds.” 

“I know.” A muted laugh comes with what Regina is about to say. “It’s why I came to you. No one else can help.” 

“A bit stupid considering I have no magic, sis.” She bites out as if Regina could ever forget. 

“That doesn’t mean you don’t remember how to use it.” 

Zelena is flattered, her lips curl all on their own and Regina breathes a sigh of relief. 

“It figures I’d be the better witch even without my power.” Her cup does a poor job at hiding her self-satisfaction as she drinks. “So, what have you come up with so far?”

“First we open a portal by the well…”

“That’s creative.” 

Regina glares at her and shuts her book. “That’s effective. It’s worked in the past.” 

“Traditional means won’t do. Not when the path is this complex.” Zelena bites her lip, at times like this she remembers her sister was a much of a terror as she was. “Give me a few days.” 

Hope swells in her chest. “Thank you.” 

“I’m not doing this for free. We expect dinner” She says snatching the book away from her. “With dessert.” 

Regina rolls her eyes but her gratitude spills out into a smile. 

  
  


* * *

The party has spilled out onto the street. It’s like the old days Roni remembers. The days when her old man laughed with a cigarette in his mouth. Laughed at boys stepping on their girls’ toes as they danced.

Too bad it isn’t like the old days at all. Dona Chayo is closing down shop because she couldn’t make ends meet. Not with Belfry hiking up the rent of her place. Roni had taken jeans and old skirts to be taken in to help keep the shop open. Everyone had been marching in with broken zippers and for few stitches here and there on jackets. The woman wouldn’t take charity. It was never going to be enough to cover the rent. Now they least is the can do is drink and dance.

“Ay corazon, permiso.” Someone says as they move past her to get to a beer. 

Roni moves and fills her cup with what’s left of the ice despite the chill of the night. She leans against the brick of the building and takes a swig from her drink. This shouldn’t be happening. Not when Ivy’s damn USB drive sits in a drawer in Clark’s kitchen. She can’t help but feel responsible, people had gotten their hopes when she’d refused to sell the bar. There is nothing to give them. Not even promises. 

“What’s with the face?” Jacinda asks making her heart jump.

“Nothing. I just hate being this powerless.” 

“I know the feeling.” She says lying back against the wall. “One too many days at the Chicken Shack.” 

“None of us should have to leave.” The words burn in her throat.

Still Jacinda smiles. There is flour on her jeans and the sleeves of her jacket, she’d come straight from the truck. 

“But there’s hope, no?’ Roni follows her eyes and finds Sabine and Henry laughing together. Lucy pulling faces between them. “Things might turn around.” 

“From where you’re standing.” She nudges her ribs. 

“Roni, come on. “ Jacinda shakes her head. “Like you’re any better. You’ve been smiling more too.” 

“Henry got to you, didn’t he?” Her lips burn when her drink touches them. 

“No,” The way she smiles is unbearable. “You can see it from a mile away when you’re around her.” 

“Am I…” Her cheeks must be darker by now. “That transparent?” 

“Only if you’re looking for it.” A comforting hand squeezes her arm. “ Maybe you should try and be happy?” 

“Jacinda…” Roni wants to explain that Clark had a life somewhere else. That there is someone out there who waits for her calls. That her whole shakes sometimes but there is still work to be done. “It’s not that simple.” 

“Sure it is.” She lifts her cup to catch someone’s attention. “Tu sola te complicas.” 

“Can we not…” Whatever Roni was about argue is out the window when she sees Clark across from her. Lucy running to greet her and Henry smiling. So many colors come to life then, she can’t explain it. Can’t explain her eyes welling up and the want in her chest. 

“You got it bad.” Jacinda sighs and pushes herself off the wall. “Try, OK? Just for tonight.” 

Roni nods but promises nothing as she walks away. It’s easy to pretend though. Easy to imagine that she could be happy. With Clark and her hair loose on her shoulders. Curled up in a way that seems familiar. Unreal. Que facil seria, to just lose herself there. Over a pair of green eyes. So easy to remember what her arms around her waist feel like. What threading her fingers through the blonde of her hair is like. So easy. Clark lifts her gaze and finds hers, ready to come join her. 

“Amigos, Amigas.” Dona Chayo commands everyone’s attention at the center of the party. It keeps Clark across the street. “I am so touched that you all came out tonight.” 

Roni braces herself against the wall because tonight could be too much for her. With Clark gazing at her with those eyes of hers. Burning. Knowing. Wanting. Just like her. Just like her. Roni should catch every word of Dona Chayo’s speech. She should. If she could think at all, could about anything but Clark she would feel guilt. If she could look away, stop the beating in her chest. The whole block claps and it might as well be thunder. Roni stays rooted in her spot, watching the green eyes come closer. And so she waits. Waits with burning lips for Clark to find her. 

“Hey.” She says like she’s run out of breath. 

“Hey.” Roni returns wondering if Clark can see it. See what seems obvious to Jacinda. 

“It’s a nice night.” Clark’s voice is soft as it blends in with the music. “Despite the circumstances.” 

“That’s Dona Chayo. Making the best out of any situation.” 

The music grows louder and Gardel’s voice comes out clear and strong. _ La noche que me quieras, desde el azul del cielo... _. Roni shakes her head and laughs. 

“What’s so funny?” Her shoulder is against hers, like this is something they do. Stand together with a drink in their hand and watch people come and go. 

“Nothing.” Roni doesn’t know how to explain it. Feeling change like electricity in the air. 

“OK. I don’t need to know.” Clark laughs anyway and that alone is enough to get drunk on. Because there has been more of it, more smiles. “I don’t even want to know.” 

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re the one being seen with me.” She’s taunting her and Roni thinks that maybe she could try to be happy. Just for tonight. 

With the music and sounds of the night she loses track of what they say to each other. Acordeon y violin, it’s the easiest thing in the world to just breathe. To see the colors flowing out whenever her fingers brush Clark’s knuckles. There have been very few moments in her life like this, Roni can’t remember any of them. Not one that feels as real as this one. Not when she had been teenager with less on her mind, not when it had been bass and drums playing instead. Not ten years ago when she was trying to piece her life together. It should bother her, would bother her. If it weren’t for Clark’s speaking in murmurs like she is.

“They’re good together, aren’t they?” She is so close she can feel her breath on her skin.

“They are.” Roni swallows as she watches Henry clumsily spin Jacinda around. Like a scene from a memory. A different night, a warmer night. Mangroves and swamps. Oropéndolas y lagartos. 

She closes her eyes and feeling her head begin to throb. The pain makes no sense, it’s one drink she’s been nursing the whole time. The music suddenly is too much on her ears, the beat feels trapped in her chest. Hammering against her bones. 

“You OK?” Clark barely touches her fingers to her wrist. 

“Just a headache.” 

“Wanna get out here?” 

Roni opens her eyes. Nothing could have prepared her that look on Clark’s face. For that hesitant smile on her lips. 

“Yeah.” 

Maybe she thinks Roni can’t feel it, the way her hand hovers just over the small of her back as they walk. Maybe she has no idea what she does to her. It would be just like her, she thinks. Like if Roni knows her. Really knows her. They walk until it’s just the sounds of the city and they’re hit by cold spray of the water. 

“Better?” Clark asks her leaning against the railing of the pier. 

Roni nods still feeling her forehead too tender. This could be a half forgotten memory, her heart clenches as the water breaks below them. 

“You’re a bad liar.” It’s a soft laugh of disbelief, her touch more of a ghost of it. That doesn’t feel like enough anymore. 

Roni takes her wrist before she pulls away, before she can think about this twice. 

“Not always. Not with everyone.” It should be less earnest than this. Less like the air before the storm. When it’s harder to breathe.

“You are with me.” Clark doesn’t lower her eyes, doesn’t look away. Lighting. 

Roni laces their fingers together as she takes a step forward. Takes it when her blood rushing out her head, reaching her belly. 

“You make it hard.” 

“I do.” Her lips part just as her eyes darken. “ I really…” 

It’s more than Roni can take, her chest too small and too tight. She closes the space between, what else was there to do but to kiss her. Graze her lips with her teeth, open her lips to let her in. All of her in. Tangle her fingers in the curls of her hair. Remember that her bare skin is silky where it isn’t rough. See so many colors with her eyes closed as they are. Dorado y carmin. Thunder. Finally thunder. 

Clark breaks away from her, her lips already bruised. Skin flushed down to her neck. 

“Roni?” Her name shakes out of her mouth. 

“Yeah?”

The color that had flushed her skin is red is all but gone. Her chest rises unsteadily, like something just broke inside her. Her eyes desperately searching Roni’s face for something. In that moment she remembers that Clark is looking for someone, wonders if it could have been her all along. But she finds nothing, nothing that she’s looking for. None of the sixes, none of the threes. Nothing to be filed under a secret name. 

“I’m sorry...I…” Clark stammers as she pulls away from her touch. “It’s not that I don’t…” 

“Clark…” 

“I can’t...I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

Maybe something breaks inside her too. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are Happening.


	8. Mangroves and Lost Cider Bottles

The loft remains the same, down to the speck of dust Snow never manages to wipe down. The grocery list on the fridge right below Neal’s red and blue hand prints. It’s wrong, sits bitterly in Regina’s stomach. That nothing should have changed when everything is different. It’s what Snow does, keep everything intact. She had done it as a child, when she’d insisted that Regina be dressed in Queen Eva’s colors. It’s like a curse without the intent, saccharine and rose colored. These thoughts shouldn’t be growing and spreading like roots. But they cannot be helped, the whole of hers knows. Not when she seems to be holding Emma’s place on a Sunday morning.

“Bacon?” Snow asks as she turns off a burner on the stove. 

“No, thank you.” Regina knows Emma would have held out her plate and drenched it in syrup. “It doesn’t agree with me.” 

“I forget.” She smiles warmly at her and guilt replaces bitterness. “It’s been a while since we’ve done this.” 

“Can’t say I remember the last time we did.” It’s not a lie. Regina isn’t even sure if there was ever a time where they shared Sunday breakfast. Snow being the kind who was served and Regina being the kind who avoided them. 

“We should make it a habit.” Coffee gets poured into mugs and Snow still maintains that air of pleasantness that used to drive Regina mad. 

“David is out with Neal and Ruth, you said?” Regina thinks speaking will help. 

“He is,” Snow splits her eggs and avoids her eyes. “Took them to the animal shelter early to feed the animals and breakfast after. He said something about starting a tradition.” 

She can taste the accusations on her tongue as easily as she could taste figs. _ Did Emma ever get a tradition of her own? Or did you wait until she was out of the picture? _

“Henry and I used to gather seashells on Sunday afternoons,” Her mouth feels numb as if she has lost control of it. “Ice cream after,” 

“I remember that.” Her lips quirk up again. “He made Emma take him when…he stayed here.” 

Regina never knew, Emma never said. Henry only returned to the mansion with several conch shells and lined them up on the window. _ I know you said que they’re mala suerte but mom look at how awesome they look! _

“Any more letters from him? That last one he sent was lovely.” Snow sounds apologetic and squeezes her hand. 

“No. No more letters.” Regina wants to keep her boy close to her chest and she cannot speak of her plans with Snow. Not when Emma doesn’t know, not when Snow might tell. “Magic is unreliable when it comes to communication.” 

“I can’t imagine what that must be like. To not hear from your son. To…” Her facade begins to break and her eyes to shine. “I have my phone-calls but..” 

“Snow,” It’s her turn to comfort her, Regina supposes. “It’s alright.” 

“Emma isn’t coming back, is she?” Snow whispers.

It strikes her, hard enough to make her lose her words. Take in the yellow walls, the warm coffee.Everything that will never change. Regina thought she might have been a placeholder but Snow’s resignation takes the air from her lungs. 

“What makes you say that?” The numbness spreads from her mouth to the rest of her. 

“It’s been almost two months. Emma has never been gone,” Judging by the evenness of her words Snow has thought about this.“Not willingly.” 

There is a flash of the girl she used to be. The girl who wanted Regina so much that she asked for her like she might for a bird. The girl who was never left behind or passed over. 

“She’s run before.” 

“Not like this.” _ Not from me _ is what she truly means. “Maybe with time..” 

“With time what, Snow?” Regina’s heart pounds against the bone. 

“ I don’t know. We could be like every other family,” She blinks herself until her smile returns, into believing everything will be just fine. “She’ll come back for the holidays. Call us once a week.” 

“Maybe.” The word leaves her mouth without thought. 

Regina won’t say that it isn’t enough for her, being like every other family out there. That family never meant carving a bird once a year and birthday cards in the mail. She always wished it to mean a house bursting at the seams. Building a larger table because more and more people come home. Laughter and too much wine. Friday night dinners and lazy Saturday mornings. Not Emma calling to apologize about not being able to make it this year. Not her son in a far away land. Not her sister refusing to join the table. Not Snow and David starting new traditions. That is a split she will not survive. 

Regina loses track of her words and Snow’s. She finishes her eggs and her coffee. Tells Snow to kiss the children for her. Snow says that she’ll drop by town hall soon, she isn’t sure. All that is certain is that her chest feel bruised and that her steps waver. Her magic takes over and carries her home. To her front steps, overlooking the bare trees on Mifflin Street. Regina tries to steady her breathing before she calls Emma. Five rings and all it does is make her eyes sting. 

“Regina…” Emma says like she’s relieved to hear her voice. 

“Your mother doesn’t salt her eggs.” She tells her as her body sinks to the brick below her. “And she waters down her coffee.” 

“You went to Snow’s?” It sounds like betrayal. Like the look Emma had grown to give her as she clung to the pirate. As if Regina had been the one causing pain. 

“I did,” Regina finds that she doesn’t have the strength to pretend anymore. “She misses you. And I suppose I was the logical substitute.” 

A long sigh makes its way through, Emma’s eyes must be brittle with salt. But she aches all over and needs it to end. 

“Snow thinks you’re not coming back.” 

“What...what did you tell her?” 

“What could I tell her, Emma? I don’t know _ anything. _” Regina feels the tears getting stuck in her throat. “I don’t know where you are. What you’re doing…” 

“Regina, please I..” It’s a plead again but it’s not clear what Emma wants from her. It’s never been. 

“But I suppose that’s not fair. You don’t owe me anything, after all.” 

“That’s not true.” Emma says sharply. “You know that’s not true.” 

“Then, tell me,” Regina clutches her coat trying to hold her dignity together. “Are you coming home?” _ To me, _ because there will never be a time when she doesn’t want more than she deserves. 

“I don’t know,” Emma begins but it’s clear she won’t get the full truth. “Not yet, anyway.” 

For one moment Regina considers Henry. Considers telling her about dinners with Zelena, about moon charts and maps to the stars. Complicated spells and portals. Because the promise of their son would bring Emma back. But she can’t, can’t use their son as bait. Could never have Emma brought back by half tricks. 

“Take care, Emma.” Regina hangs up before Emma says another word. 

Her heart might turn her ribs to dust.

* * *

“Why are you doing this again?” Jamilah asks as she runs a finger over the rim of her glass. 

“Inventory?” Roni crouches down behind the bar. “The thing you’re supposed to do to stay in the black?” 

“Yeah but not on Sunday afternoons,” She quirks an eyebrow because she’s already guessed the answer. “Not when spreadsheets exist.” 

“I don’t trust those things.” She counts the three unopened bottles of vodka she has left. 

“Never learned how to use them, did you?” 

Roni gets to her feet and glowers at her. She doesn’t need this today, she needs to mindlessly write down numbers. Be frustrated over her them not adding up. Avoid thinking about that thing that is broken inside her. Forget that everything went to shit over a pair of pretty eyes. Forget what warm lips felt on hers. But Jamilah had brought her lunch and she has that way about her. Always getting Roni to fold with a laugh. 

“My old man used to do it this way,” She says through her teeth. “Don’t see anything wrong with that.” 

“Aha,” Her friend nods and Roni already dreads what will follow it. “Wanna talk about what’s really has you reeling?” 

Pain shoots up in her head when she thinks of colors, colors she isn’t seeing today. “No.” 

“Is it related to a certain blonde?” Jamilah’s smile could be called dangerous, but it just pokes at her. Like a blunt knife. “Owns an old yellow beetle?” 

Roni only kisses her teeth in response. 

“Burns holes in the back of my head for so much as glancing at you?” 

“_ Jamilah.” _She warns her as if that could ever work. 

“Not ringing any bells?” 

“Would you stop?” 

“No, seriously now.” At this Jamilah becomes concerned. “What’s the deal between you two?” 

“There is no deal,” Roni mutters jotting down numbers in red ink. “That’s the problem.” 

“Oh, that’s a bitch of a situation.” There are never gentle words between them and Roni likes that way. She couldn’t tolerate pity form Jamilah.

“That’s why inventory on Sunday.” 

The door of the bar swings open and for the moment her heart thumps violently Roni believes it might be Clark. Called here with her thoughts. But it’s Tilly and her backpack strolling into the bar. Tilly has a knack for knowing things, just enough to get by. Like knowing that her door would be unlocked. Her color today is purple, bright from her lips to her nails. Jamilah pushes a stool and slides over a half sandwich over to her. 

“Pickles?” Tilly asks dropping her bag.

“Course.” Jamilah says with a fondness she reserves for no one else. 

“Good. I’ve had a horrible day.” She takes a bite off her sandwich and looks straight at Roni. “It’s your fault.” 

“Me? What did I do?” Roni pushes her glasses up her nose and fixes Tilly with a look. “I’ve been here all day.” 

“Yeah, exactly.” Tilly usually needs time to organize her thoughts, really know what she means. “I’ve just come back from Clark’s. From trying to crack the files flash drive you two stole from Ivy...”

“Tilly, you should keep that to yourself.” Roni says pouring her a glass of water. Her insides twist with worry, the drive should have been back in the safe back by now. 

Jamilah’s eyes widen in shock and then amusement. 

“She looks like a bus ran her over. Sullen, will barely talk. Nightmare to work with.” She washes down her food and then sets her hands on the counter. “You should do something about it.” 

“It’s got nothing to do with me.” 

“It’s got everything to do with you.” Her eyes go darker, like they always do when Tilly is earnest like this. 

“I…” Roni says feeling too exposed. “I’m sure she has someone to turn to.” 

“No, there’s only you.” 

“Tilly, how about giving Roni a break, huh?” Jamilah puts her hand over hers and gives her a nudge. 

“But Mila, she has to know…” 

“I think I missed some stuff in the basement.” Roni says knowing she won’t be able to answer without lashing out much longer. 

“No, let her go.” She hears Jamilah whisper as she reaches the stairs.

Roni leans against the brick wall and tries to breathe. Because she woke up with the light in her eyes and felt them dry. Clark doesn’t get to lock herself up, not when she’d run into the night. Left her with the waves breaking underneath her. Like driftwood taken by the tide. She doesn’t get to be in pain too. Roni wants to hate her, curse the night she fucking walked into her bar. Curse the green out of her eyes. 

“Puta.” She breathes out and moves to count specks of dust of she has to. 

Bottles of rum, tequila and scotch her old man never got to serving. Roni runs her fingers on their necks and thinks she will find the old cider bottles. The ones left over because no one in Hyperion Heights is looking to get fucked up on apple juice. There aren’t any, not ones with a white cap. The ones she boiled before noon and filled in the afternoon. It’s like there is no air left in the room. They should be here along with everything else. They should. Pain spreads like lighting across the back of her head.

“Fuck.” It comes out in a groan. 

“Roni? You down here?” Comes Henry’s voice from above the stairs. 

“Yeah!” She replies rubbing her temples. 

His footsteps fall heavy on her ears but he brings with him fresh air. Roni takes a few deep breaths and walks over to meet him. Grateful that he’s come looking for her. 

“Hope you don’t mind. The door was open and they told me to come right in.” Henry beams and the pain seems to diminish as he stands here. 

“Of course I don’t mind,” Roni smiles and resist the urge to take his hands. “Any particular reason why you dropped by?” 

“Yeah,” He smiles sheepishly and she swears she sees a shadow of Clark there. Gone as soon as it came. “Remember my podcast idea?” 

She nods and runs a hand through her hair. Her skull still tender to touch. 

“Think you’d want to be the first guest?” 

“Henry...” His name trembles as it leaves her mouth.

“I promise it won’t be weird. It’ll be just a conversation. We could record upstairs at the bar.” He says his hands doing more of the talking for him. Como nino pidiendo permiso. “ And even get Clark to join.To have an outsider’s perspective and you seemed pretty close last…”

Roni shakes her head and bites her lip to keep it from quivering. She isn’t doing this, not falling apart in front of Henry. Henry who had walked in here with fresh air and purpose. She finds his eyes too kind on her. He nods and wraps her in his arms. It’s easy to fold into him and gather her strength. It’s too familiar for who they are to each other but she lets the affection wash over her. 

“Just us,” Henry tells her when break away from each other. “That’s all we need.” 

His words sound like an echo of a memory, one that beats against her chest. 

Strong as a hammer, strong enough to break bone. Roni can feel it as sure as she can feel Henry’s arm around her. 

* * *

Their breaths curl in white before them. It’s the early morning cold, before the Sun is even close to rising. It’s the only time when a portal to Henry’s world can be opened. That is what their calculations had said, open at the fourth hour under the stars. Out in the mansion’s garden, the power of the well would not work. Her sister hadn’t even been sure of much help she could be, not when this portal requires so many different things from them. Regina has to hope that her mutterings and Zelena’s knowledge of passageways will help her cross. She silently prays watching Zelena sprays paint onto the grass and settle the necessary items in their place. Figs, Henry’s book and three pinches of salt. Ordinary ingredients but just enough for this to work. 

“Alright, I think that’s everything.” Zelena says standing back to look at her work. “All you have to do is the honors.” 

Regina readies the spark between her fingers but she catches the look on her sister’s face.

“Zelena…” She prompts her. 

“The portal will stay open for an hour,” Her lips become a thin line as she breathes in. “After it closes there is no way of opening another at the same time and place.” 

“I know.” Regina squeezes her arm. It only makes her sister clear her throat. 

“I have no way of getting one to open for you. Or to even find you. When it closes you better make sure you’re at the right side of it.” 

It’s clear what she means and there is no promise Regina can make that wouldn’t be a lie. Instead she pulls her into a tight embrace. 

“You tell that nephew of mine I said hi.” Zelena means to laugh but it doesn’t quite make it out. 

“I’ll give him your best.” The words cut her throat on the way out. 

She pulls away to find Robyn under the bundle of blankets Zelena had wrapped her in. There is the smallest bit of exposed skin on her forehead and that’s where Regina kisses her goodbye.

“Try not to drive your mother crazy.” Regina whispers as her niece stirs. She kisses her again for good measure. 

“Enough already.” She smiles as she rolls her eyes. Only her sister could say such as a thing as tears well up in her eyes. “We haven’t got all day.” 

“Try not drive _ her _ crazy.”

Fire ignites between her fingers and Regina drops it into the wick they had set up. It quickly becomes a ring and the air smells of the sugar being burned out of the fruit. She carefully steps over the flames and recites the spell she’d composed days earlier

“Sal, sal del manglar. Pez que nada entre raíces. Higos para mi hijo, please. Please.” The words keep spilling out as she thinks of the Sun, warm on her skin. Salt drying her lips. Fish swimming between her legs and her son. 

Regina’s eyes stay open as the ground beneath her begins to sink. Zelena raises a hand as if to say goodbye and everything turns dark. The hum of silence is all she has as space presses her together through a window. Takes her through time. Then it comes, faint. Cicada. Water up to her knees and the Sun on her face.

“Hey, you!” Comes someone splashing behind her. A deep voice and hurried steps. “Who are you?!”

Regina turns around not knowing what to expect and finds a young man. His hair is cropped and his skin sunburned. His nose is already peeling from his travels. She knows him instantly, even if he is taller than he’d been when he left. Even if his chin is unshaved and he is dressed in a cotton shirt he would have never worn.

“Mom?” Henry says with wide eyes. “Mom!” 

“Oh God. Henry,” Regina murmurs as he picks her up and presses his lips against her hair. “You grew up. My boy.” 

He puts her down and smiles sheepishly. A fleeting shadow of Emma. 

“Guess I did.” He takes her hand and begins to lead her out. “Let’s get out the water. You never know what’s lurking nearby.” 

Regina can’t speak feeling the callouses in his hand and the gentleness in his touch. Her son has become a man in this land. This land where time seems to be swifter on its feet. 

Once they’ve reached the bank of the river Regina magics boots onto her feet and cotton slacks to go with the heat, relieved to see that her magic works just fine.

“Is anyone else coming?” Henry asks watching the water and the place where it pools into the open portal. 

“No, mi vida.” She wavers on her words watching her son grow disappointed. “Just me.” 

“Emma couldn’t make it?” He asks with his smile not yet fading. 

“Opening this portal was a bit unorthodox,” Regina has to stand on the tips of her toes to cup his cheek. “Your aunt helped me getting the magic to work…”

“Mom,” Henry says carefully, his eyes beginning to shine. “Where’s ma? Why didn’t she come?” 

“Henry, hijo,” Her voice doesn’t find its strength. “Emma left town.”

“No.” Suddenly he looks like the boy who ran away from her so long ago. “She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t just leave.” 

“She left not long after you did.” Regina guides him to the log he’d clearly been using to eat. “She packed a few things and drove away in the middle of the night.” 

“Did she say why?” 

“No. But I suspect it was something she had to do.” Regina looks into his eyes. “She’s fine, sweetheart. There is nothing to worry about.” 

“How do you know?” It isn’t an accusation like it would have been years ago. 

“We kept in touch.” The full truth is too much to give him. Henry might be a man but he is still her son. “I think she’ll return when she’s ready.” 

“What if we go back together?” He asks and what was left unbroken inside her snaps. “Would that bring her back?” 

“It wouldn’t be fair,” Regina squeezes his hand. “Not to Emma. Not to you.” 

Henry nods sadly and she works at pulling herself back together. 

“I want to know about your life here,” She finds her smile when his eyes regain some of their light. “I was told you have a talent for saving others and finding trouble.” 

“Who told you that?” He is shy in his admission, like he always was when she caught him wrapping her birthday present.

“The stars. It’s how I found you.” 

His eyes light up and his chest rises as Regina details the workings of her magic. Tells him about feathered serpents, poems and old gods. The universe drawing itself into a tree, constellations that take messages from branch to branch. He tells her about a woman named Ella stealing his motorcycle, catching her exacting her revenge on a prince at a ball. Following her wherever she led and befriending a princess fighting for her kingdom. He is on a quest to find a priestess deep in this wilderness. Deliver a message to her on behalf of the princess who is too busy defending her shores with a makeshift fleet. 

“Mom,” He says almost out of breath. “Why don’t you come with me?” 

“Henry....” Regina’s voice trembles as she thinks of Emma. Emma with her sword strapped to her back running into danger. Of doing this without her. 

“Come on, it’ll be an adventure!” Henry stands up like he can’t contain his excitement. “Besides. It’ll be good having you watch my back again. I’ve missed you.” 

“Mi vida,.” She gets to her feet and can’t help the tears. Her grin and her heart thumping. “I’ve missed you so much. More than you know.” 

“So is that a yes?” 

Regina remembers the portal that will never open again. Elections next week and the mansion that stands alone.The promise she couldn’t make to her sister, Emma out in the world, not coming back to her. 

“It’ll just be you and me.” A last chance for him to change his mind. 

“Just us.” Henry says it like the strongest of affirmations. “That’s all we need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've told this story sort of out of order and from the perspective of one(two) people who don't know what's going to happen/don't remember so hopefully this makes the timeline fall a little more into place!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Zacate, Apples and Lullabies

The sheets stick to her skin. The whole of her feels clammy, her back. Her neck. She’s sick, Roni thinks. Has been sick since she stepped foot in her basement earlier. Fiebre de todo el cuerpo. And there is the hammering inside her head. It has not stopped with thoughts of missing cider bottles. Of Henry’s arms around her. That shadow in his eyes, the one that matches Clark’s. 

Clark. Clark. The name sounds wrong. Like a word that once said too many times loses its meaning. It doesn’t fit. Roni knows it. Has known it since that night. So much about her seems like odd cut outs from things she might know. Like Roni has made her from half forgotten memories. But her kiss was nothing like that. Nothing like a memory. It tasted like beer and a good for nothing wish. And it was colors. Gold and crimson. And Roni thinks, for a second, that it means something. Or that it used to. The colors of...it’s at the tip of her tongue. But all she can think of are things that break. Those fragile things that are meant to be looked at but never touched. Things that last if left behind a glass. Like her mother’s porcelain.

The mother she does not know. Not enough to remember the delicate curves and folds of her pieces. 

Porcelain that might have as well kept the cider she cannot find. 

Her heart beats faster and faster. Like an engine until her eyes snap open. It’s still dark outside, too early on Monday or too late on Sunday. She half expects the smell of the forest to wash into her room. Half imagines that her sheets are made of five hundred threads woven together. Cafe con leche y semitas waiting downstairs. 

Downstairs.

There is nothing downstairs but neighbors. Below them nothing but the street. A street that smells of piss and rain.

Roni lets the sheets slip from her legs and braces herself against the edge of her bed. Takes a deep breath. It’s like she’s forgotten a dream. Or a nightmare. Whatever it is, she wants it back. Needs it back. Roni settles her feet on the cold and stands.

She can do today. Even after the sun rises. 

“I’ll survive,” She mumbles to herself. “Always do,” 

Something, maybe that thing that pounds against her skull tells her she’s wrong.

A number, the one she shouldn’t have seen. Shouldn’t have learned.

* * *

Luciernagas. Green and everywhere out here. Dots of light that lead the way in the middle of the night. Her chemise clings to her back, already covered in sweat. It was the heat that had awakened Regina. It’d felt too familiar, as if she could almost turn on her side and find blonde hair, loose and sun-bleached. Too much like a wretched island that should never have existed. Too much like missed opportunities. Regina heads for the stillness of the river now. Water to cool her down. Agua dulce to quench her thirst. 

Most of the camp is asleep, everyone contently snoring away after a long overdue reunion. On the ground, on hay and against their horses. Tents for those who couldn’t bear looking at stars. Regina had been one of them. If she gazed upon them she might ask the Hunter to find Emma. Say it in whispers, encuentre a la que deje atrás. A la que me partió el alma dejar. Que me dejara. Regina takes a deep breath to steady her pulse. It has been a year now since she joined Henry. Almost a year of running and covert missions in a land where years pass where Storybrooke only has weeks. Months of the songs of crickets and just the two of them around a fire. Perhaps time will stitch her back together, thread the parts of her with Henry’s laughter and the tight grip on his sword. 

The water is so still it could be a mirror. Regina already feels relief as she kneels and gathers enough to make a smaller mirror between her fingers. It’s cool when it hits her face and the thickest of its drop run down her neck.

Relief does not last very long, not when the air is so heavy. She catches it then, the glint of a metal hook. On instinct Regina’s fingers spark a fire between them and her jaw tightens. Ready to fight.

“Hold your fire,” The voice is not who she thought it to be. “Lest you want to explain to Her Majesty why the Captain of her fleet has been roasted to a crisp.”

Regina extinguishes the fire and gets to her feet. The woman standing there is laughing and shaking her head. Her hair is braided and tied together and it’s clear she has not been sleeping. Her boots are strapped tight and her shirt is tucked inside her pants.

“Captain Hook?” She tries her best guess.

“Ugh.” The woman rolls her eyes as she leans against a boulder. “Has my crew been spreading that around again? I’ll bring out the plank next time we’re at Sea.” 

Regina wants to apologize but instead she only nods. Not knowing what to make of this new version of Hook. 

“Captain Darling. I enjoy terrorizing the enemy with such a name,” She clarifies. “Milah.” 

_ Milah. _ The woman who had left Rumplestiltskin. Who he’d killed and who Hook sought to avenge and never did. Just exchanged for another obsession. Regina wonders if everyone in this realm is a better version of themselves. If she might find her twin leading a different life.

“You look like you saw a ghost.” Milah laughs again. 

“I’m sorry,” Regina clears her throat. “Where I come from, you were quite…”

“White? Dead?” Milah produces a pouch and offers her a swig. “Had my story stolen by a mediocre man?” 

“Yes. How did you…” She accepts the pouch and is pleased to taste wine and not rum. 

“Henry filled me in when we first met. He was practically bouncing with excitement, ranting about alternate worlds.” With a groan she unstraps her hook and lets it fall to the ground. “You must be his mother.” 

“I am.” Regina says proudly thinking of her son sleeping somewhere in the camp. 

“The Queen, not the Savior.” 

“Yes. The Queen.” Her heart races again as she keeps her eyes focused on the water. Catches the stars in that dark mirror. “And I don’t think Savior is the appropriate title anymore.”

“Judging by your tone I’d say she broke your heart and it’s keeping you up,” Milah says like it’s a simple observation. Regina sets a glare on her. “Did I guess right?” 

“It’s the heat in this damn forest.” Regina replies wanting to leave but not managing it. Because Henry is her son, because there are things she can’t tell him. Because she had left her sister behind. Because she hasn’t spoken about Emma in so long. 

“Take another swig,” She offers with a knowing smile. “Helps with the memories you can’t forget.” 

“Speaking from experience?” Regina asks.

“No, my heart isn’t broken,” There is a quirk to her lips as she rubs at her chest.. “It’s poisoned.” 

“Sounds like you need this more than I do.” She hands her the pouch, knowing that their stories will come out. Like drops of wine.

“Aye.” 

* * *

207-248-3663. 207-248-3663. That number is the thing that beats against the hard parts of her skull. The twos and threes Roni had memorized that day when she’d seen Clark’s call log. The sixes and sevens feel sharp, like they are trying to cut through. Roni pours milk into her coffee, feeling the four slip into the hot mixture. She cannot forget it like other days. The pain running down her forehead won’t let her. La puta que la parió, the coffee burns her tongue and the back of her throat. 

“You OK there?” Henry asks, watching her with those eyes of his. And something is missing in the question, Roni can feel it. Something is missing and it almost makes her want to cry. 

“Yes, of course.” Roni isn’t too sure the words belong to her. 

“Ready to do this?” He turns the microphone slightly and lets his finger hover on the space bar on his laptop. 

She nods and takes another sip of her boiling hot coffee. 

“Welcome to the first episode of the Hyperion Heights vs. The Man or Woman as the case happens to be,” Henry tries not to laugh and the way his voices his words. It reminds her of something. Like the apples in the back of her mind. “As my first guest, I have the owner of the famous Roni’s. Roni Perez herself.” 

He gestures for her to speak with a smile.

“I don’t know if you can say famous.” She tries to play along. “Infamous, perhaps.” 

Henry quirks an eyebrow and for a moment Roni thinks she sees a fragment of herself in him. 

“The place isn’t just a staple in the community, it has a personal history for you..”

“Yes,” Roni struggles to remember it now. Her father. “It used to be run by my father. Under a different name..” If she could only find it. She can see the bright green and red sign in her memories. Raindrops lighting up with the colors. It doesn’t feel real. 

“Quique’s.” She says at last. But that feels like a lie. Her father with his careful grooming and stiff colors. His cravats. A name worthy of a prince. Enrique, never Quique. “He used to sing. He had a lovely voice, Henry.” 

Tears well up in her eyes and she can’t be sure why. It could be her father y sus versos delicados or this man sitting across from her. Roni blinks and thinks Henry changes to a boy. Still growing into the heart that was too big for him. He takes her hand making pain flare up in her head. 

“You’re definitely not OK.” He scolds her. “You should have said.” 

“I’m fine, Henry.” _ Mi vida. _The endearment sits at the tip of her tongue. “This is important. We should keep going.”

“No, no way. This can wait.” Henry presses the spacebar. “What’s really going on with you?” 

“I...I don’t know, to be honest.” Roni sighs and rubs at her temples. “It’s like my thoughts are scattered all over my mind. I can’t tell what’s a memory and what is...something else.” 

“When did this start?” He furrows his brow in concern.

“I can’t....” She shakes her head as the realization hits her. Up on a ladder, twisting apples off the vine and thinking of her father. Clark watching at the foot of the ladder, expecting something from her. Long before they had kissed and she had run.

“Roni?” 

“Henry, would it be odd if I asked you to come with me somewhere?” 

Worry has carved lines onto his face. Henry eyes her carefully, almost like he wants to grab her by the shoulders. Check her for any signs that something could be wrong. But then his gaze turns kind on Roni. In a way she remembers. And she hopes, in the strangest of ways, that he does too.

“I’ll drive.” He squeezes her hand. 

Boy with the heart of gold.

* * *

It is nothing like she imagined but Regina can’t say she spent much time imagining her son’s wedding. But she could not have guessed that the ground would be soft and that the air would smell like rain. That what was left of the water would wrap itself thickly on her skin like wool. That it would to violin and accordion that set the rhythm for Henry’s dancing. That it would be a ceremony held in the middle of war. Mead and beer instead of wine and cider. But most of all, Regina had not thought Emma would miss it. She looks across this improvised table and tries to fill in the blanks. 

Maybe they would be drunk together. The mead obvious in Emma’s eyes and in her breath. And she would be smiling. So wide. The kind of smile that would have frightened Regina before. Emma would whisper _ they’re good together, aren’t they? _ And watching Henry turn a laughing Ella in his arms Regina would have no choice but to agree. _ They are. _Regina closes her eyes and lets the strings of the guitars and the clapping imagine it all. It’s so easy. Even three years after she last heard Emma’s voice. 

“I think it’s time for that mother-son dance.” Henry is gentle as he lays a hand on her shoulder.

She opens her eyes and finds him glowing. In a way only someone in love could be, golden against the crimson of sunset. 

“It might be.” Regina grins because his happiness is infectious. Even now she’s surprised to find that the well of her love for him is endless.

Their hands are clasped together and his rhythm is off. He’s all arms and missteps. But he is so perfectly Henry, so perfectly her son. Emma’s son. 

“Henry, mi vida.” She whispers. “Where did the time go?” 

“You don’t look a day older, mom.” He offers with a laugh. 

Regina shakes her head in mock disapproval. As if she cared about crow’s feet and silver stray hairs. He knows that and she knows her son. Something is running through his mind.

“What…” His voice is quieter. “What do you suppose ma would make of this?” 

“Hijo,” Her hand cups his cheek. “She would be so happy. Ecstatic to see you like this.” 

“Probably would be keeping an eye on those turkey legs.” He tries to joke but his eyes still brim with salt. Her son can’t help it. 

There had been one night, one night where Regina had not been sure she should be by his side. What he said broke her heart and mended it with gold. She was the first person who loved him, wanted him. He had made his choice, that much had been made clear. Regina had not asked that of him, had not wanted it. Once, when the broken pieces of heart had been filled with coal and ash, she had yearned for it. Wished that her son only had room in heart for her alone. But not then, when Regina had missed Emma so desperately. 

“Mama, I miss her.” His voice trembles. “So much.” 

“I know, carino.” Regina lets him fold himself in her arms, as if he were still a boy. “Me too.” 

* * *

“I don’t want to sound like I’m worried or anything,” Henry says glancing at Roni. “But I’d assumed we were going to a doctor’s office.” 

His hands are steady on the wheel and Roni can’t help but think he’s good. So good. Her head feels like it might explode and that same sick feeling spreads through her stomach. The one that begs her to return to Hyperion Heights, screams in her ear that this is wrong. Roni forces a smile because it feels like it’s the kind of thing she has done before. Smile through her pain. 

“I just need to make sense of…” She sucks in a breath and keeps from rubbing her temples. “Whatever this is.” 

“OK.” He says. The rich colors of the passing trees agrees with him. She thinks that perhaps he was not destined to live in the grey of the city. Knows that he is more a man of forests and swamps. “What are these memories? The ones you aren’t sure of?” 

Roni clenches her hands closed. Something tells her she shouldn’t share, that it’s dangerous. 

“I don’t know.” Her stomach twists as they approach the street they need. “I can’t really describe them.” 

“And you think an orchard has the answers?” He parks the car and kills the engine. “Roni, I promise I can handle the truth.” 

“I don’t know what the truth is.” Cold creeps up her spine because this isn’t a lie. “It’s like I’ve led two lives and their strands are braided together.” 

“Like a curse?” Henry whispers believing it to be impossible. 

207-248-3663. 207-248-3663. A fog that envelops her. Him. The symbols in Ivy’s hideout. Poison. Apples and poison. The pain threatens to split her head in two and she opens the door to let the air in. The asphalt under her feet remind her of where she is. The trees are losing their leaves now and this place is real. This place is solid. This is now. Roni heads towards the orchard.

“Hey! Wait!” He scrambles out of the car. “I didn’t just drive you here. I’m coming with you.” 

“I’m sorry.” Roni almost links her arm with his. Like that braid of her two lives. “I just want to get to the bottom of this.” 

Henry gives her a look but walks with her all the same. Lets her wonder what is that he sees in her. The ground turns rough and the wind picks up that scent. The one that is distinctively apples, ripe and ready to be picked. The path opens up to richer colors, to leaves on the ground. Her cheeks tingle with sickness and her blood runs cold all over her body. 

“Welcome back.” The woman recognizes her as she hands her a basket. “Recorda, once you’re done anda donde Ramon.” 

Roni swallows and puts a hand to her chest. She isn’t sure she can do this after all. 

“Puedo hablar con el?” Roni asks. 

“Si, claro.” The woman nods towards him. Standing by the same truck and adjusting the hat. 

Henry says nothing as he walks, only squints at the Autumn Sun. A hand in his pocket, missing a scarf to guard him against the chill.

“Don Ramon?” Roni asks carefully. Small steps will do it.

“Veronica, yes?” He pushes his hat backwards to get a look at her. 

“No, just Roni.” But even that feels like a lie. Like she has caught onto the wrong strand of the braid. “But you remember me.”

“You came in with that chelita, her name was like a man’s?” He scratches at his chin as he eyes Henry. 

“Clark.” The one syllable rolls in her tongue like burned coffee. “Do you remember what...de que hablaron?”

Don Ramon tilts his head in confusion.

“I cannot say that I do.” He isn’t lying, not holding back like Clark said he did. “The weather, maybe.” 

Roni leans against Henry who knows to put a hand to her back. She tries breathing but it’s only making her head lighter. 

“Victoria Belfry,” She struggles to get the name out. “Le suena el nombre, do you know her?” 

“No, should I?” 

Roni’s whole body goes cold. Maybe something breaks, maybe something comes back together. The pounding in her head grows stronger, the sickness in her stomach and her mouth gets worse. It’s like more and more strands are coming together. The ground underneath her feet doesn’t feel so solid. So present anymore. And Clark is who binds all those strands together. Green eyes, a pair of green eyes that were always going to ruin her life. A laugh that was always too familiar but that kept so much from her. Too many quiet silences and gaps in between her sentences. Clark, no last name Clark. 

“Hija, se siente bien?”

“Roni, are you feeling alright?” Henry echoes Don Ramon, as if he understood the words. He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. 

“_She_ _lied to me._” She hisses in pain. “Lied. From the beginning.” 

* * *

The tile is cool underneath her legs. An easy breeze comes in through the wooden shutters. Regina breathes it in, lets the evening spread through her chest. And she smiles, smiles because her son is holding her granddaughter. Lucy has an iron grip on his fingers as her socked feet take tentative steps on the tile. 

“Come on, Luce!” He cheers as he takes three steps towards Ella who is waiting with open arms. “We got this!”

“Come to mama, mi vida!” Ella smiles as some of her hair comes loose. 

“They’ll get her walking then there will be no stopping my goddaughter.” Tiana tells her as she joins her on the floor. 

“No force on Earth will stop her,” Regina shakes her head as she hears Lucy distinct laugh. Delighted at her father’s encouragement. “It runs in the family.” 

“It really does,” She replies tilting her head towards them. “Can hardly catch my breath with these two as it is.” 

Regina wants to say more. Wants to say that she knows the feeling. That there was a time when all she did was wait in a town where a clock tower stood broken. Until Emma came and after that day she never stopped running. Towards her, towards Henry. That she ran in heeled shoes, battled monsters. Sailed a ship with a man she hated at the helm. 

Lucy falls flat on her behind and Henry is quick to try and pick her up.

“It’s OK, carino.” Regina tells him with her heart in her throat. “Let her try and stand on her feet.” 

She doesn’t doubt her granddaughter, recognizes that look of determination in her eyes. Emma’s. Translated from her green to Lucy’s dark brown. The expression is the same, set on succeeding. It comes to no surprise that Lucy uses her small fists to push herself up to stand, to let out a delighted laugh. One that is pure magic. And then she puts one foot in front of the other.

“That’s it, mi amor! Keep going!” Ella kneels, ready for what she knows is coming. 

Another step and Henry is covering his smile with his hand. 

“You’re almost there, bebe!” Tiana says as she motions behind Ella. 

Two more steps and she’s stumbling onto Ella’s arms. It’s followed by cheers and Lucy squealing in joy. Regina gets to her feet only to press a kiss to the crown of her granddaughter’s head. 

“Such a brave and strong girl.” She whispers, thinking of Emma who is missing this too. “It runs in the family.” 

* * *

It’s been days of work of teaching herself how to get past the defenses Ivy laid out. Of codes and code breaking. Magic would have been easier she thinks. But it’s _ done _. Finally done and Emma is alone for it. No one else to see the clear list of files on the screen and call it a victory. It’s the middle of the day and she can hear life happening outside her window. It doesn’t feel right, not as big as it should be. To finally have the answers she owes Roni. 

_ Regina _. She has to remember it’s Regina. It’s her, even if she has forgotten. Forgotten her name, their son and everything in between. Regina who forgot Emma Swan. Regina who kissed her and hadn’t broken the curse that made her Roni. Emma can’t forget that. Won’t let herself forget her warm lips on hers, giving everything she’d never allowed herself to want. And how that hadn’t been enough. No matter how badly she had wanted it. How badly Emma had wanted to be the answer. She takes a deep breath and opens the first file on the list. 

“The hell?” Emma hears herself say. 

_ Regina Mills/Roni Perez _reads a tag at the top. It’s some thirty pages long. The first begins with Regina’s adoption application, fading blue stamp at the bottom. Just over eighteen years ago Emma hand shakes knowing what she will find. Her son’s birth certificate, no name given. She hadn’t even held him, hadn’t wanted to think of what she would have called him as he cried. It’s the first time she’s laid eyes on it but it’s Regina’s signature at the bottom of Henry’s adoption papers that has her head spinning. The way the s slightly curves at the of her last name, the way she barely dots her i’s. It can only be hers. 

A photo of Henry and Regina at the bus stop, Regina’s cheek pressed against the top of his head. Henry smiling and clutching his lunch box makes her grow cold. Emma can’t grasp why Ivy Belfry kept this in a safe. Hid it away behind a wall of code. She curls her hands into fists because nothing in this damn neighborhood makes sense. Not Regina pouring drinks behind a bar, not while she’s still behind a desk in Storybrooke. Not their son gone to another world but here. Years older. Like he had stepped out from the future and she had stood still for a decade.

Emma needs this to be over, this thing that keeps them away from her. Dangles her family in front of her like bait. She needs her son and his mother, can’t fight with both her hands tied behind her back. Emma leaves the couch and slips her jacket on. She has to go. Go, go and fix this. Like she set out to do. End whatever mess time and magic has made a mess of their lives. Not knowing how. But Emma has to try. Try, try. 

When she opens the door someone is at the other side. Waiting. 

“Isn’t this a coincidence? Just when I was about to knock.” Ivy Belfry smiles as she speaks. “It’s Clark, right?” 

Emma tenses her shoulders as she studies her. Her straight hair, her thin frame. The vaguely threatening look in her eye. The expensive heels and the tailored clothes. Perfume that is worth more than a month’s rent. A cheap copy of someone else. Looks cheaper up close. 

“It is.” She blocks the door frame with her body. 

“Could you spare a moment to talk?” 

“I really can’t.” 

“I would have thought a thief had better manners,” Her smile turns into a smirk. “I could always go find Roni with the police in tow. She’ll resist arrest or something to that effect.” 

Emma takes a step forward and remembers she only has her fists. That there is a real police station, the real system that will take one look at the name Roni Perez and make a decision. Not a town where she and Regina are the law. Where Emma could easily open a cell, where Regina could cast a spell. She bites her lip and steps aside to let Ivy through. 

“Tell me that this place came cheap. It’d be a pity to pay market price for it.” Ivy pretends to dust herself off.

“Came for the flash drive?” Emma asks crossing her arms over her chest. “Take it and get out.” 

“Oh, I don’t care about that.” She laughs amused by her own words. “I wanted you to find it. You didn’t think I’d really be that stupid? You saw what I wanted you to see.The container, the safe. The files. You and Regina.” 

Fear crawls in a chill up her spine and her teeth grind against each other. Emma had suspected it, the thought had worn her to the bone. But she’d decided to ignore it because it was the one thing they had been able to get on the Belfrys. Ivy seems satisfied by her silence. 

“You know it took some time to figure out just who you are,” She continues as she takes Henry’s book from the counter. “I didn’t have a file on you. And you’re far too..._ awake. _But then it all clicked. Emma Swan. The Savior Regina never dared mention by name. ‘Red leather jacket, curls of blonde hair and boots she could stand tall in.’ That’s how Henry described you in the book.” 

“What,” Her throat practically closes around the word.“Do you want?” 

“I come bearing gifts. You promise not to try and break my little curse and I promise to get rid of my mother. Leave your little..._ block _ intact.” 

So many of her assumptions are crumbling with each of Ivy’s words. Victory Belfry being nothing but a pawn in Ivy’s curse. Not knowing how long it had been all smoke and mirrors but knowing that everything has been pointless. She was wrong. Wrong at a time she couldn’t afford to be. It’s enough to make her heart try and punch its way out.

“Bullshit.” Emma bluffs making her voice stronger. “If you’re offering me a deal then you must be scared.” 

“Oh, I was being generous. But since you want to play, let’s play.” Ivy is unafraid to step forward. “You break my curse and Henry dies.” 

Emma grabs her by the collar of her blouse ready to punch the light out of her. 

“Don’t you dare threaten my son.” 

“Threaten? It’s already done.” Her teeth are that unnatural white that comes from bleaching. “I poisoned his heart _ just _ before the curse took hold in our realm and brought us to this place. But how could you have known that? You weren’t there.” 

Her grip loosens on its own and her feet stumble backwards. Emma looks at Ivy straightening her blouse and running a hand through her hair. 

“Releasing magic into this world will kill your son. Every curse needs a fail safe, after all.” 

It’s like a rubber band snaps inside her. Pulled until broken. Too limp to be useful.

“What’s the matter, a true love’s kiss didn’t work like you planned?” The smirk is back on her lips. “How lucky.” 

“Why are you doing this to us?” 

“You? You were collateral damage. Ask Regina, if she ever remembers who you are.” Ivy’s laugh is poison. “There is a funny thing I learned about the Savior in Henry’s little book. She isn’t much without the Queen, is she?” 

“Fuck you.” Emma says in a last ditch attempt at keeping her eyes from welling up.

Ivy flicks her wrist in a way she recognizes. Magic, magic that doesn’t need the breaking of the curse. It’s blue when it ensnares her, when it goes down her throat and makes her bones stiff. 

“Have I made myself understood?” The malice in her magic is like metal in her mouth. 

“Yes.” Emma chokes out. 

“Good.” She releases her and heads towards the door. 

All she can do is watch her leave as she rubs her throat. Emma waits a beat or two before diving into the couch to find her phone. Call the Regina who is far from her and tell her the truth. The whole truth, no more phone calls where she treads lightly. Chooses her questions carefully, always making not to disturb that balance. Time. But she needs her now, needs the Regina would know what to do. Fuck caution. Fuck whatever else. Order. Time. Emma calls once, calls twice. 

_ You’ve reached the personal number of Regina Mills. If this is town business redirect your call to the Mayor’s office. If this is an emergency contact the Sheriff’s department. _

Three times. Five. All voice mail. Emma dials the one other number in her logs. 

“Sweetheart, hi.” Comes Snow’s voice from the other land. “I was just thinking about you. I’m picking up some bear claws at Granny’s and…”

“Mom.” Her voice is still strangled from Ivy’s magic. 

“Is everything OK?” She asks and Emma falls onto the floor. 

“Regina. She isn’t taking my calls. I…” It’s pointless to try and keep the tears away from her words. “I have to talk her. I need...I need her.” 

Maybe Ivy is right. Maybe she is nothing without Regina. 

“Emma, honey. I don’t know how to tell you this.” Snow’s voice turns sweet like it does when something’s gone wrong. “Regina left town.” 

“No.” Her head shakes on its own. “She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t just leave. Elections are coming up. Regina would have...” 

“None of us knew she was planning to,” There is a crack in Snow’s voice. “We didn’t find out until she was already gone. Zelena says she opened a portal before dawn today and left to join Henry.” 

“No.” Emma presses her fingers against her eyes. _ You weren’t there _ . _ You weren’t there. _

Her phone slips from her grasp and she can hear her mother trying to talk to her. Trying to get Emma to speak but she can’t do anything but wish for the floorboards to swallow her. Regina left without a word. Left them all. Left her. The Regina who knew her name. There is only the Regina from across the hall who ran her fingers through her hair. Regina who lets her hair curl and looks at Emma like she wants to sink into her. The Regina without the crown on her head. Regina who lost a baby boy, the Regina who still lost her father. Who laid careful hands on her naked skin but doesn’t love her back. The Regina Emma can’t help but ache for just the same.

Emma wraps her arms around herself, digs her nails into her sides. Not knowing what else to do with the anger that is boiling inside her. Kicks at the coffee table wanting to break every damn thing in this apartment. She takes the empty mug on the coffee table and tightens her fingers around it. Wanting to break and cut her. Because her son’s heart is poisoned and Regina is gone in more than one way. They’re both gone.

  
  


* * *

Eighty steps. Four flights of stairs. It’s all that is keeping her from Clark. From the green eyes that ruined her life.To ask her why. To lay her lies on the table and dissect them for her to see. Because the colors of her life don’t make sense anymore. Roni knows the tint of the streets and the colors wrapping themselves around her eyes kept her from seeing the truth. She’d known but had looked away. It’d been easy. To let Clark, the woman cut out from memories, sit under her skin. Like she had always been there. 

Eighty steps. Roni had sent Henry away, convinced him that this was something she needed to do alone. That had too felt like an old memory, a scar. He’d given her a stern look and promised he’d swing by the bar with dinner later. Now if Roni could take that first step, instead of standing here with the keys in her hand. With a deep breath she unlocks the metal gate.

The dark hallway, with the unwashed walls is not at the other end. A foyer and hardwood floors. Once it was cold but now it feels warm. Welcoming. Home. Roni closes her eyes and waits three beats before opening them again. The hallway is back and she hurries up the stairs before it’s gone. 

Roni grips the banister, rough and in need of sanding. It takes four steps to get it to change under her touch. It turns smooth, feels recently polished. There is someone she needs to call after. Two someones at the end of the stairs. Identical smiles and appetites. She thinks of lunch waiting on the table. She stretches her neck and wonders where they might be that they don’t come down. Another step and it’s this old building again. Roni thinks of sitting here, hands around wood. Stop the braid from becoming tighter and tighter. No. She has to be stronger than this. 

_ 207-248-3663. 207-248-3663. 207-248-3663. 207-248-3663 _

Five, six, seven, eight, nine steps and the breeze brushes her face. A window has just been opened and she remembers. Remembers the green of the grass and crickets. The ache of her heart because someone is missing. Pies descalzos sobre el zacate. A lullaby she sings to a child curled in her lap.Durme, durme, sin ansia i dolor. It hurts like a blade plunged at her side. Hurts like betrayal. She needs it to stop so her feet climb again, to make it go away. But it the pain stays even when the wind and grass are gone. 

“Don’t I have expert timing?” Ivy’s voice rings through her ribs. Squeezes her heart. 

All Roni can do is look at her. Call a spark to her fingers, wish she could remove the blade at her side and plunge into her heart. 

“I just paid your thief of a neighbor a visit,” She takes her time as she comes down to meet her. Just one step above her. “_ Clark _and I came to an understanding of sorts.” 

It’s the smirk that ignites something in her. Roni grabs her by the neck and pushes against the wall. 

“You stay away from her.” Her voice is hoarse and she can’t make sense of her words. Coming out like a reflex. “This has nothing to do with her.” 

“Is this part of your routine?” Ivy laughs. “Endless self-sacrifice? It must get old at some point.” 

“What do you want?” Roni presses her harder. 

“To make you suffer, what else?” Her eyes turn an unnatural shade of blue as Ivy’s smile turns whiter. “Happy remembering..” 

Roni stumbles backwards and Ivy brushes past her. Leaving behind the scent of metal and smoke. It makes her heart beat away in her ears. Beat until it becomes thunder and the ceiling opens up to a dark sky. 

“How much further?” Sabine asks as she hold Jamilah by the waist. Her friend is barely conscious and Sabine’s face says it all. It’s do or die today. 

“We’re almost there,” Roni assures as she keeps her eye on Tilly walking ahead with Lucy and Jacinda. “Just until those ruins up there.” 

Henry smiles despite it all. 

“Should we go over the plan again?” He asks as he readjusts his arm around Jamilah’s shoulders. 

“You and Ella distract Drizella,” Roni tells him as they keep a steady pace over the mountain. “Alice and Lucy keep each other out of harm’s way, and away from Milah. While I cuff Drizella’s magic to keep her from casting the curse.” 

“What could go wrong?” Jamilah coughs. “With my heart pumping poison and your granddaughter and my daughter hiding behind the nearest bush.” 

“You be quiet before Her Majesty finishes you off herself.” Roni adds with a nod to Sabine. 

“This will work.” Sabine says with the confidence of a leader who is used to having all the answers. “It has to.”

“It will.” Henry replies the way only a hero could. “I’m the Author, I should know..” 

The ruins form a circle, ancient magic. Not her own, but easily learned. Easily understood. She watches as Tilly takes Lucy’s hand and leads her away from the circle. To the safest place she can find. Henry gently slips his grasp away from Jamilah and joins Jacinda up front. One, two three, four steps and they’re crossing into the circle of stone. 

He screams and his knees buckle in pain. In that instant there is no plan. Nothing to keep her from running to him. Five, six, seven, eight, nine steps and she is crossing the circle. He screams again.

“Henry!”

Something breaks. Shatters. Gone are the ruins, the mountain top. Roni is standing in front of a door. Her handle on the cool metal of the knob. Twists open thinking only of Henry and finds Clark. Red eyed and with pieces of a broken mug surrounding her. And she remembers, remembers she was coming here for a reason. 

“Re...Roni.” She rushes towards her and all Roni knows to do is to pull away. 

“You’ve been lying to me.” Roni tells her with venom burning on her tongue. The green of her eyes gets lighter. Wider with surprise. It makes her hurt all over. 

“I…” Clark closes the door behind her. “Only when I had to.” 

‘Don’t you dare give me that,” She spits out. Because she feels, she feels Clark never lied to her. Not when it mattered. Not when she was looking at her like this. “You never had to.” 

“Please.” She doesn’t try to get closer but Roni can tell the impulse is there. She can always tell with her. “It’s...hard to explain.”

“_ Try me. _” Roni challenges her. 

“I want to but I can’t.” Clark swallows something back. “Not after…”

“Taking Ivy’s deal?”The memory of the blue in Ivy’s eyes makes her shudder. “I ran into her.” 

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Clark shakes her head and her lip quivers. “You’re better off not knowing.” 

“That’s for me to decide.” This time Roni steps closer and it’s a half forgotten memory. To be so close to her. So angry, desperate to get what she wants from her. Desperate to prove her strength. “Now tell me.” 

“Roni,” She takes a deep breath and steadies herself against the wall. “Please. I wish I could.” 

“But you can!” Roni grits through her teeth. The pain is only getting worse. “You don’t know what it’s like. To have your head swimming with memories you can’t keep...to...not know what you’ve forgotten. Mierda! _ You _did this to me!” 

“What are you…?”

“I was fine! Fine before you walked into my bar. Before you made pick apples...before! I would still be fine if it weren’t for you!” Her eyes sting with outrage. “Please, just...tell me the truth.” 

Clark turns away from her with tear stained cheeks. And it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that she is the one hurting, being hurt. Clark isn’t allowed tears.

“I just need to fix this..then..” She says lowly without looking at Roni. “Figure this out and...just give me...just wait.” 

“That’s not good enough.” On impulse Roni fishes her phone out of her pocket. 207-248-3663. 207-248-3663. Your Worship. Roni dials it quickly and puts it on speaker.

“Roni, what are you doing?” Her voice shakes with the question.

“If you won’t talk then maybe whoever is it at the other end will.” She raises her chin, daring Clark to stop her. “Whoever it is you’ve been hiding.” 

“I promise that I’ll tell you the truth. Just not now, not like this,” Clark moves forward but she pulls away. 

“When?”

The dial tone keeps going. She thinks that her maybe her bluff will not pay off. That she will have to leave this place with a head full of things she cannot remember. With them braided tighter than ever. 

“When I’m sure it’s safe.” 

“No!” She hisses. “I’m tired of dead ends and non-answers. Of you lying to me!...I’m tired... of the mess inside my head!”

“Roni...” 

“Don’t call me that...that isn’t my…!” She snaps as her blood boils. 

_ You’ve reached the personal number of Regina Mills. If this is town business redirect your call to the Mayor’s office. If this is an emergency contact the Sheriff’s department. _

It comes crisp and clear. Her own voice, the way she makes it stronger for the phone. To make her sound older, perfected when she had just been a girl. And life required it of her. When mother...Roni hadn’t known her mother. The one who owned porcelain. But memories drift in anyway. Memories of mother and father. Cruel and kind, fuego y salvia.

She drops her phone like a hot coal. 

“Who…” It’s hard to word it. To think through all the things she has forgotten. “Is that...is that... It can’t be.” 

Clark nods and reaches for her hand. Thumbs circles on her wrist. Her touch is like lighting a match. The smallest of sparks but just enough. Enough to make her want to believe.

“Regina Mills.” She breathes out. “Is she..am I the one you’re looking for?”

“Yes.” There is a brittleness to Clark’s voice now. Like she hadn’t wanted this but is relieved all the same. “You are.”

“Apples. The orchard,” The words are barely there. “You knew...you knew it would trigger it. Memory”

“I hoped.” Her free hand swipes at her eyes. “You sort of gave me the idea, actually.” 

“I did?” Maybe she remembers, _ magic that isn’t magic _. Remembers an ache, when all she had was her voice. Wanting, wanting and not having. 

“It’s kinda crazy, I know.” She chokes out a laugh. “ And I don’t really know half of it. I need you for that, Regina.” 

_ Regina. _

_ Regina Mills. _

The syllables echo in the corners of her. The name, _ her _name, is like looking in the mirror for the first time. Examining each detail, everything she hadn’t known existed. Regina Mills.Re-gi-na. Mills. Mills. Like Henry Mills. Baby boy. So wanted. So wished for. So loved. Not a dream that vanished with dawn. Real, so real. Real as his cries. Pequeno Principe. The boy for whom she forgot her fate. All for his first smile. Mi vida, carino and a thousand other words she has for him.

“Henry is my son.” She whispers it like an answer, feels her skin burn right where Clark touches her. 

“He is.” And she smiles. Broken and put together. “Very much.” 

Laughter and lullabies. Durme, durme, sin ansia i dolor. Heroes and villains. And that word falls heavy on her heart. First steps, running away from her. Running to…

She regards her and that feels like the first time too. A blonde mess of curls, the faintest hint of age by her eyes. Green and good.Good in a way she isn’t. One that never expected more than she was willing to give. Tall in her boots. Taller than her. Hero of the story. 

“Who are you?” Perhaps her touch will tell her. “Who...who are you to me?” 

“There is only one of you.” It’s gentle and true. 

The moon moves in her mind’s eye. A whirl of darkness swallows her whole and she makes a promise. A promise to save her. She runs after her outside her front door. Tells her about her birthday wish. A fire and a sheriff’s star. A cursed island, a flame and too many almosts. A wedding that shouldn’t have been. 

“And there is only one of me.” Her fingers lock with hers. With certainty. 

A shrug and unsure smile. So young, so unsure of her place in the world. Regina remembers fearing her. Remembers despising her, wanting to let the feeling fester. Being unable to. Being disarmed by her earnestness. Loving her because Henry did. Loving her because she just did. Because she felt her under her skin. Her downfall that never came. Strands from the braid are coming loose. Recuerdos destrenzados. Her name is being spelled out from those strands. Regina can see the letters so clearly. The name from Henry’s book. The one she had used in spell, to call her here. A book, a book that doesn’t tell the full truth. A necklace that spelled out her names. Ballet shoes, pink and greyed at the bottom. Sneakers worn instead of a slipper. Worn to work instead of a ball. Sugar, sugar less than a cup. More than a tablespoon. Ordinary ingredients to bring her here. Back to her. Piece their family together. 

“Em-ma.” She breathes out. “Swan.” 

“Yeah.” An exhausted smile draws itself onto her lips. “That’s me.” 

Regina falls into an embrace without thinking, with the whole of her still hurting. Strong arms around her waist and a chin on her shoulder feel like she is pushing all the windows open on a Summer night. 

And Emma. 

  
  


Emma is the breeze. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went by SO FAST. I can't believe it! Thanks so much for reading!! Remember this part 1 of 2 (so, 7a). I'm already working on part 2 (what would correspond to 7b). I split into two parts because the differences in POVs, theme and tone are literally night and day so it didn't feel right to keep them in one story. 
> 
> I think I will begin to post early next year (I want to say late January/early February?) when I've completed the story and I know there won't be any delays in posting. 
> 
> And again, thank you so much for reading and commenting!! It made my day every time!


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